Voice of Reason
by Blueasice24
Summary: "I'm leaving tonight." "Leaving? Why?" "I have to – need to; I can explain more later, but I have to ask – will you come with me?" My blood stilled. The thought chilled me. "Leave?" His next words were so quiet, I had to stress my ears to hear properly. "Never to return." ExA MxN OCxOC; close but not same AU of IC series. SEE Chpt. 31&32 for ExA
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story starts during Eragon and then skips into Eldest and follows through out to the end of Inheritance. This will be MxN, ExA, and OCxOC; because I've added my own character into the mix, it means I have better ability to getting on Arya's nerves and therefore, there's a good chance the Inheritance ending will be… fixed **

**SO, bear with me, and I hope you like it**

I no longer knew her – and the realization was painful.

Her eyes obtained a wild frolic that gave youth and vibrancy to her soft features. She seemed so happy. No matter she was condemning me to death.

The white claw of smoke retreated as smoothly as it had pierced me. I clutched at the pain. Tears stung my eyes. I feared to swallow the blood in the back of my throat.

It was gone.

But then I looked at him, looked at the man who had forever changed my life. Even as he struggled to support himself on his bloodied elbows, still he attempted to stop me. I shook my head at him and bit my lip. Never would I regret this act of mine. Never would I recant it.

My gift to him: my life.

**A/N: This was a prologue of sorts, a taste of the future. But not all is as it seems…. Hehehehe (cue Galby laugh to echo in the chambers of your computer screen)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here is the actual chapter one; R&R if you like it! **

There is much a time for song and dance, when the worries of the mind are at bay, and the stars sprinkle glittery light across the sleek flow of the land. There is much a time for war, when the public is restless, and the authorities can do naught but suppress them.

We were at a time much as this. It had been since before I was conceived. But the cool touch of the night did not warrant my unease. There was no fear in the heart of the Empire, not for me, not for the whole of Urû'baen. My father has made us safe from the outside, and we will not be punctured. The rebels were but a tease, and the people from the beggar to the noble spat on the name of the Peace Dividers.

There was nothing to form the frown that creased my face. But, still, I sighed, though the grand ballroom had been dressed in sparkling chandeliers, dotted with black and white servants, and washed with the color and assortment of gowns and suits for the occasion.

Not for much _of_ an occasion.

The room held an aromatic scent of orchids that stuffed the waft of body warmth and skin pastes. And yet, my nose scrunched in minuet distaste. The dance floor was large enough to accommodate the droves of pointed-nosed nobles and specially selected citizens. But felt I still the heat of the crowds. An entire wall of the ballroom was windows that opened up to the glorious sprawl of Urû'baen, the top of which were opened to coerce cool air to intermingle with the warmth of inside. However, the earthen orange of my eyes that held the depths of caves were now as stony and visual as topazes. Stunning but blank.

Sir Edrolph had my arm wrapped around his, fidgeting with irritation as I was content to stay and stare at the open layout of the city before me. Behind us, music swelled into a faster pace as it reached a stirring climax. My voice tickled within, urging to flow between my parted lips in harmony to the sweet melody.

"Darling, you appear thoughtful this evening." The man's hot breath billowed against the opening of my ear. "Do you enjoy the view?"

I swirled the ruby red liquid with gentle circles as I rotated my left wrist. "There's a certain magic to it," I decided.

"There _is_ a balcony with which we may escape to if you so wish to view it further." His mouth brushed the shell of my ear.

I suppressed a shudder – he was more likely to take it as a positive reaction than a negative sign – and shrugged my bare shoulders. "It is cold out, and Father said he did not want me to leave the ball."

Edrolph's gloved hands spanned the skin there and rubbed softly. "We shall only be a minute."

"I do not disobey my father."

His fingers slid down my arms and wound about my hands. He held my left back from raising the goblet, and I frowned. But he chuckled, unaffected. "You are so utterly delectable, my dear." And his lips kissed the nape of my neck – bare as well due to the up-do style of my hair.

Why did I allow him to be so close when his touch made me sick?

The question had nestled itself in a corner of my mind the past few weeks. In many ways, Edrolph was one of the most handsome men in the court. He was naturally strong, though first impressions told otherwise. His body build wrote lean and tall, firm white skin, and expressive hands.

In the beginning – and this began before my ten and seventh year – I had basked in his affection and warm words. Mother had introduced us at one of the rare 'family' dinners, and the relationship flourished.

But around three months, I began to be nauseated. His kisses became more demanding and intimate. He suggested – like now – that he wanted the intimacy to escalate. And Edrolph was strange in that he appeared to have no fear of the wrath of the King should he ever deflower me, which made me suspicious of my mother's innocent glances and winks.

Six months had gone by, and I still wondered why I allowed him to be so near.

The man circled my waist and held me close, sniffing the clean, floral scent of my hair. Rose petals were placed with a delicate precision in the crown of my head, forming an aromatic tiara to backdrop the true silver diadem snuggled in my heavy, black tresses. Evelyn, my lady-in-waiting, had pulled the fussy locks into a spiraling intricacy that framed the soft curves of my cheeks.

I sipped more wine.

Edrolph's hands brushed the billows of white and black fabric pleating down the length of my legs. He kissed below my ear and chuckled at some thought. "Princess, you tempt me so."

"Do I? Pardon, sir." But my voice was even and unconcerned – a note he heard and grinned at.

"With the way you dress in your finest, the silk roving over your skin like water… the gentle waves of your sweet-smelling hair… the sheen of your perfect, creamy milk skin… you tempt me greatly." Edrolph's arms tightened. His chin rested on my shoulder, the subtle stubble scratching me as he nodded toward the wine in my hand. "That is your third goblet this night, my dear. Are you feeling tipsy?"

I shook my head. "Not at all."

Partial lie. Urû'baen was melding with the shadows.

"Are you becoming tired? Your eyes seem to droop," he suggested.

I would have had to have been a child to not understand the double meaning in his words. And the prospect disgusted me.

Edrolph shifted so he was in front of me, the back of his large hand sweeping the skin of my forehead. "Your head is a little warm. Maybe you should stop drinking the wine." His fingers wrapped over mine on the glass and coaxed them to release the crystalline stem.

My eyes narrowed into irritable slits. "I am perfectly well."

"Perhaps one of the healers can take a look at you," he continued as if I hadn't spoken.

"I am perfectly–"

The warm, projecting contours of Murtagh's voice cut into my protest. With a curved smile, he sauntered through the crowd, cloudy gray eyes centered on me. He was dressed in varying degrees of fiery red that swathed over his muscular body like a prince's garb.

"Princess." Murtagh's voice was lukewarm and hinted at rude amusement. He bowed low, ignoring Edrolph's presence.

I gave a curt nod. "The night rests well with you?"

"I have settled just as well." And there was a touch of a fractional grimace in his eyes.

Edrolph pushed his chest up against my back, and, by the dull frown shaping on Murtagh's mouth, he was making quiet the impolite expression. "Murtagh, did you decide to put that crazy old coot out of his misery?"

"When you become King," Murtagh said, smirking at whatever rise the remark seeped out of Edrolph.

"Indeed."

I rolled my eyes. "If you want to ruin my lovely night, go outside and play. I do not want to hear another uncouth word from either of you."

The men fell silent.

Murtagh inhaled through his flaring nostrils, and then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Princess, I have a specific matter to discuss with you tonight."

"As do I," Edrolph insisted.

Hardly was I an instrument of tugging. I threw Edrolph an exhausted, irritated frown, and he dropped his arms. Never truly removing his eyes from Murtagh, he bowed to me and left with a poignant, "As you may."

"What a sight for my eyes are you, Murtagh," I said, slipping my arm into his.

He shook his head. "Gods know why you put up with him."

I shrugged. "Mother is pressuring me to get married and nothing more suitable has come by. He may make me a twinge sick, but it is debatable which is worse: mother's nagging or Edrolph's touch."

Murtagh maneuvered us to a less populated section of the ballroom, south the orchestra and pressed by the windows. Given how his smirk pulled down like heavy weights the farther time pushed on, I wondered why he'd even bothered coming at all.

"Something is off, is it not?"

He nodded and eyed the stragglers around us. His arms came around my waist, and he began swaying us ever so slightly to the slow change of music. He swooped down his head, placing his mouth by my ear. "I'm leaving tonight."

"Leaving?" I lowered my voice to his and gripped his shoulders tighter. "Why?"

"I have to – need to; I can explain more later, but I have to ask – will you come with me?"

My blood stilled. The thought chilled me. My nose scrunched and turned away. "Leave?"

His next words were so quiet, I had to stress my ears to hear properly. "Never to return."

I held a gasp. The idea seemed so foreign. So unreal. What would ever make Murtagh think of running away from home? Truthfully, he had never been happy here, even as children when then world seemed bright and gay to us. And yet, still, I could not image him ever _not_ existing on this plane. What would Father say?

"Gwendolyn, my dear!" The chirpy, familiar flute tone jostled me out of my thoughts.

Mother.

Murtagh appeared unaffected and said, "Meet me at the gate at midnight should you decide to come." And with that, he gave my cheek a brotherly kiss, bowed, and lost himself into the crowd.

Just feet away, Mother gaited with prefect poise, two drinks in hand and a hostess smile on her pretty face. Blonde hair the likes of daisies bloomed upward in an elegant twist. Cushioned in the mass glittered a golden crown spotted with precious jewels. When she reached me, she placed a goblet in my hand and patted my face.

"Darling, I noticed you off with Sir Edrolph not too long ago; where is that dear man?" Inky lashes fluttered over pea green eyes as she searched through the dancers.

"I know not, I'm afraid," I replied.

Mother sighed a sigh of awe and wonder. "Let us hope he knows what is good for him."

I decided to act the unknown. "And what would that be, Mother?"

"Why, that he should marry you, of course." She winked at me and took a sip of her wine. She had a way of movement that created a graceful flow from one act to another that put those in attendance at ease and laxity. "I am quite surprised he has yet to ask you as of late."

I nodded, mimicking her taste of drink. "So too do I wonder."

"I will be most grateful when it happens."

She _would_ be most grateful to one day head the planner of her only daughter's wedding. The notion itself caused a mixed reaction in my belly. Perhaps I had drunk too much, and I no longer thought straight.

Mother asked, "He might consider a night faster perchance you use your gift…."

I sighed – subtle enough Mother did not realize it – and swirled my glass. My gift – the ever persuasive, ever so enchanting voice that I had inherited from my Father. Resisting it was futile, for no one yet had managed to ignore the lulling allure my voice elicits.

But my mind swung away from Mother and fell onto Murtagh – his strange behavior. Once, when we were young, he had become so fed up with his castle life that he had threatened to me he would run away. But he had not made it out past the first gate. Not much, I was sure, would be different this time.

His offer. Come with him? And do what? Live among the poor and oppressed? Princesses did not live amongst sand and fleas. What Murtagh yearned for, I held no conception. I would wait for the next morning when he would tromp about the corridors and stare at me with an undercurrent of passing hatred. Perhaps this would be the mistake that led him to realize just how dependent he is on my father and what my father does for the Empire.

But until then, Murtagh would remain alone at midnight.

**A/N: I know, some of you are like, "But Galbatorix had no wife – much less a legitimate daughter! It would have been okay if she were illegitimate, but now I'm confused! How is this possible!" **

**Yeah…. It wasn't a random thing just so I could have this plot – there is a point to it! Patience, my friends, all will become known in time…. Hehehe**

**See that button down there… I like to call it the Motivation button. It motivates me to update and to improve where you believe I lack and do horribly in. Pressing this button makes the both of us winners :-D**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Please tell me if you see an issue any time at all with my time line, although I'm pretty sure this one is right (I think of it as being Saphira was six months old before she breathed fire, which was at the end of Eragon – before Murtagh was kidnapped – and Murtagh gives Nasuada in Inheritance a bit of his own timeline, in which Era and Mur, I believe, lost their 'fathers' about the same time); So….yeah…**

About Seven Months Later

Urû'baen changed little over the chuck of half a year. Murtagh proved me wrong in that he eluded capture. Though I never witnessed it first hand, I knew it irked Father – to the point that I was no longer seeing certain people about the halls and Shruikan warned me away from the throne room most days. Father commissioned the growth of a military squadron that held a head quarters just a mile out of the city; it loomed in the night like the crimson eye of a shade, and I made sure not to look out towards it often. But the neighborhoods remained plateau, the taxes increased marginally, and I grew complacent. My ten and eight year was lunging very near, and with that Mother clung to her most solid dream: marriage. Father took little care in who I wed (no husband of mine would ever become King given Father's immortality), but Mother was insatiable.

It was like this, after having endured an hour of Mother's drafts and nudges, that I attended a dinner by Edrolph. Fire brushed my cheeks and warmed my eyes, and my sour mood only deepened when I had the strangest conception that all would not be well this night.

Evelyn cross-braided my hair and weaved so it grasped the back of my head. Because it was not a public gathering, I had forgone my diadem and wore a smooth, graceful dress that lacked pomp and circumstance. The lack of weight holding down my waist gave a quicker step in my heel, and I closed myself from most of the black night.

The past six months, Edrolph courted me like a hunter stalked his prey. I had not fully realized this – I did not hand him much of my true attention – until Jacquelyn had made the comment to me some weeks ago. She was faintly worried but not so much that she pressed the case, most especially because of her lingering bitterness in regards to our ten and sixteenth year. At the time, I had shrugged her off, attributing it to her lack of esteem. But tonight her words loitered about in the corridors, a ghost among many.

Edrolph had secured a private dining room on the estate in the eastern section. He also made a point of having Evelyn escort me to the dinner. She did not lead me tonight.

A soldier clad in black stood guard before the shadowed door. He gave a curt bow of acknowledgement and said, "Princess, Sir Edrolph awaits for you within."

I dipped my chin. "Grace be with you."

And he opened the door to allow me passage.

Inside, Edrolph stood before a tender, warm fireplace. The firelight danced across his hard face, leapt up into his soulful azure eyes. He wore a deep red, nearly maroon tunic lined with gold edgings and black leggings that squared his long legs. When he looked at me, the touch of a soft smile ebbed into the contours of his lips and cheeks – like he was a painting. The pastels hued his skin almost orange, though I knew it to be a pleasant peach. And he had a faraway look about him that weighed and depressed my mind.

"Would you care to sit down?" His voice was lighter than his appearance, more normal for when he was in my presence. He motioned to the table lengthened for ten guests set for two.

I nodded and followed him to the left end where he pulled out a chair for me to sit. When I acquiesced, he placed himself beside me – at the head.

As we ate, Edrolph kept the conversation on a cloudy mesa. His brow was unevenly crooked as if he was uncertain or uncomfortable, and he ate with almost an exaggerated zeal. The words which we spoke were trivial and dissipated into the air like mist.

When we finished, Edrolph took my hand and coaxed me to the one window in the room. It was tall and presented a view of the castle's eastern gardens, sprawled out and laden with pale frost.

He arm came around my waist, sliding me into his warm side. His tunic was a soft and pleasant fabric brushing against my skin; I used the terminal feeling to sedate the sickness and raise myself aloof in apathy.

"I recently spoke with the King," he said finally.

I nodded, a sign for him to continue.

"He offered me a position to head the structure of his military, and I accepted."

Not much surprise there. Denying the King was an unheard of policy.

"Would you be leaving?"

Edrolph shifted me in his arms, holding me against his chest. I realized he thought he had read sadness in my tone – yet I had used no inflections for months. His hand cupped my cheek and raised it to his face.

He said, "No, my darling. For how would I ever live to leave you? No… it is a job well accomplished from my estate. But I will certainly become busier." His thumb grazed the bone beneath my eye.

"When will you take the position?"

"I begin the next morning." Edrolph's brow tightened with stress, and his thumb pressed harder. "Which is why I have brought you here this night."

"What is it that you need?" I strained to keep the apathy tight as a drum in my voice.

But he smiled at it, chuckling at it under his breath. "You believe to wear this mask upon your beautiful face, Gwendolyn, but I have known you far too long. I see past it. I see _you_. There is no point in hiding from me."

That was quite impossible, and it jostled the emotion sticking to the back of my throat. "I'm not hiding from anything."

Edrolph was unhindered but let it slide. "Gwendolyn, I have come to realize that I must not waste what precious youth I have – what _we_ have. And given how our hearts are forever entwined from now and beyond the void, I have only one more task to complete." He brought our faces closer, and our breaths mingled like the oxygen and the fire. "Marry me, my dearest. Promise me our lives and whatever is afar."

I tried to breathe so that I might speak, but Edrolph allowed no words, and his mouth descended upon mine.

His lips were inferno, insistent and coercing. The effect had my mind rushing and spinning in rapid circles. I tried to push him off, but the motion only encouraged him, and we swung toward the table. Annoyance clawed the tips of my fingers, and I dung my nails into his skin like teeth. He grunted, clasping his hands over mine to soften the grip.

And then he stopped. He released me as if I had shocked him and staggered back a few steps. His chest pumped with exertion, and his face was red with warmth.

His mouth opened to speak, but I shook my head. Once. Warning.

Suddenly, there was a commotion shouting from beyond the door. A man was growling and chains were shuddering. I rushed to the door before Edrolph could grab me and threw it open. With a great _whoosh_ of wind, the procession became very visible before my eyes.

Soldiers clad in the crest of the Empire were clotted about a prisoner. Someone groaned. A soldier lifted back a pike. The procession shuttered forward and then stopped again.

"Stay back, Gwendolyn," Edrolph said beside me. His hand clamped over the curve of my shoulder.

I shrugged him off and marched toward the soldiers. Curiosity surged through my veins, and I could not help but shout, "Step away!"

They froze at first. Most people did when they heard the command in my voice, the power building behind it. It appeared rehearsed and perfected when they took a step back in unison.

I pushed aside two stunned men and gasped.

Murtagh crouched low to the ground, wrists and ankles clamped in bloodied shackles. His dark hair contained so much grease and grim that it slicked back in his hair and shined like gel.

I held the shock in, but there was no holding back that physical response that shoved me to my knees in front of him. My hands began to tremble, and I reached out to touch him.

He snarled before my fingers could near. "Don't _touch_ me."

"What happened to you?"

He shook his head. "Leave."

Footsteps dared enclose upon us. "What do we have here?" It was a man, though his voice held a high timbre that gave him a feminine appeal. And it was not one I recognized.

I looked up to see two tall men towering over me. Their closed-set eyes narrowed into curious slits, as if this put them in a peculiar situation and fettering out a solution became priority. As the moments of stiffness passed, I pinpricked their identical identities and the royal purple they both were garbed in. This set me more off – how did I not know who these two were?

The one closest to me shook his head at the soldiers. "And why do you imbeciles seem so incapable of shielding him from a _girl_."

I rose to my full height – still lacking in inches, perhaps a foot, when standing next to these twins. "Excuse me? And what business do you two have with _him_?"

The other twin offered a softer smirk than his brother. "That is between _us_ and the King, pretty one."

"I'm not a 'pretty one', I'm the King's daughter," I snapped. "_Tell_ me what business you have."

The smirks washed off their faces. They came preoccupied trying to keep their mouths closed and fighting the command. It was not until sweat glistened on their shiny heads that one of them blurted, "The King wished us to take him back as punishment for leaving him."

I sighed. My eyes wandered over Murtagh, whose tension had not lessened in the spine of his back. It had been a long seven months since I had seen him. I remembered well the night he had asked that I, too, would leave with him, and I was glad now that I had not. Nothing was worth facing the wrath of the King, my father or not.

"Let me have some moments alone with him," I said, turning back to the twins. They blinked at me as if waking from a trance.

One glared at me. "What powers do you possess of, Princess? Does the King know how… persuasive you are?"

What a silly question. "It is his ability that of which I have acquired, and the King has made me proficient indeed. Now let me have a moment, sir, with a dear friend I have not laid eyes on for nigh seven months!"

They hesitated but, eventually, they acquiesced, though not without warning that I had a time limit to consider.

I knelt beside Murtagh once more and was allowed to rest my palm on his shoulder. He tensed but said nothing. The sight pained me, and I wanted to relax him, but I could not think of how to go about it.

"Murtagh, it is I, Gwendolyn," I said.

He grunted. "I should have listened to you."

"Why?"

Again, he shook his head. "Half a lie – maybe you should have listened to me." He glanced up at me, and I caught a fragment of the pain thickening his foggy eyes. "You don't know what's out there, Gwen. It is not all as Galbatorix says. The farther you go past Urû'baen, the more pain and suffering you shall witness. And yet, I should have headed you."

"I said nothing that night to dissuade you." But my mind was not centered on my words. It still reeled from his own.

Not as Father said – promised?

"I could hear the disapproval in your voice, shock because the notion had never crossed your mind."

I nodded. "But why so torn?"

His voice damped. "I fear I will not live past this moment to remain as myself. It pits a gaping hole in my stomach, a feeling that will not fade away."

"Impossible," I said, attempting a lightness in hopes of lifting him. "Murtagh Morzansson shall never fade away, for he is the bravest of us all."

Murtagh fully raised his neck, the bones in his neck cracking. "I nearly became something more, Gwen. I nearly became a _hope_ to people, rather than a hindrance."

Strange. Where had he found himself? "How?"

"Gwen, you have to get away from here. You're like a blind lamb straggling towards the slaughter house the longer you stay," he said instead.

I had the temptation to laugh at him, however weakly. "Leave? Where on Alagaësia would I go?" Murtagh knew well I knew no more than the borders of these castle walls. Mother had never let me step foot off its property, and in times past that I had asked, she shrugged it off her shoulder as if the idea was as silly and ridiculous as jumping off a cliff.

His eyes pierced me. "You've heard the rumors about the Dragon Rider, yes?"

"Aye." It was impossible not to. Immediately, I saw the _Wanted_ poster Evelyn had snatched from the city to show me per my request. Based upon his depiction, I had trouble discerning how he managed to aggravate the Empire so.

"Find him. He can help you. He's the only one that will."

"But where is he?" Should I decide it was even worth leaving my home for the unknown.

He shook his head. "I doubt they'll remain there long."

"You're not making any sense, Murtagh. Just tell me."

He growled. "Just escape."

**A/N: Also, if you think Murtagh is a little OCC, I'm sorry; he won't nearly be so erratic all the time. Just this chapter. Gwen is so dang complacent, it's hard to motivate her to do anything out of the 'norm'**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews I've received so far. I hope that as the story lines gets farther along, you'll enjoy it more. Also, in response to Fanboy 123's question: for what I have so far, you'll see familiar Eldest settings and plot around Arya's return to the Varden after the Blood Oath. I'm going to have to really pin down on the timeline, though, because a lot happens in these books in so little time, and I'm not here to copy and paste a bunch of events that CP wrote. Which means for the readers, once the initial ride begins, the drag with hopefully be minimum and exciting; I'm planning on doing some Arya POV's also b/c she is probably the most effected by my adding my OC's into the mix. **

I thought much on those last words. I couldn't ask more because the twins intervened and had the soldiers continue on to the throne room. But I was so confused. Escape? I was the Princess; how in Alagaësia was I supposed to escape from my own home? There was nowhere to go.

This was how I found myself walking through the gardens. The pale moon cascaded over rose petals and tulips; colors became pastel and romantic. Only a slight breeze ran through the leaves and stems, washing with it the floral essence of pollen. I sat on a metal bench, shivering slightly at the cold bite. An obsidian beetle scattered over the smooth surface, its shell gleaming in the pallid light.

My eyes roamed to where Murtagh had been taken, and then moved up to where Father's tower stood – the largest and tallest of the towers due to the dragon hold that surrounded and engulfed it like a mountain.

_Do not wary your heart over what you cannot change,_ the warm, deep tones of Shruikan traversed the walls of my mind as if he were soothing a small child.

I dipped my chin. _Aye, you are right._

_Your mother worries for you child; perhaps it is time to retire?_ It wasn't so much of a question as it was a request, but I swelled in the illusion of the choice.

_Aye._

It was like poking a hole in the bottom of a cup and draining it of all liquid – lighter, easier – when he left. He was the only dragon I had ever privileged my presence to, but he was also the only dragon I ever wanted to meet. The species was too alien to wrap my mind around, and if they were anything like Shruikan, I would be terrified to my death.

I sighed, tapping my toes on the consistent cobblestone. I rose, taking a last sweet breath of the air, and stepped forward.

Suddenly, my foot jerked forward. The air gasped. Something scuffled, and I made out a vague black shape in the darkness.

"Stop!" I ordered.

The gasp came again, faster – shocked. It skidded to a stop in a patch of light and tensed for the final blow.

With a cautious step, I moved toward the boxy, leggy shape. It was a man dressed in complete black, including his face. But the cloth was dirtied and sewn in uneven strips. The mask especially was loose and flimsy in seam. It was as if he had gathered this black material like one gathered fallen wheat after harvest. He sucked in gulps of air, and the sound was loud and obnoxious.

"Who are you?" I inquired.

The man's breathing calmed until I could no longer hear it, and he turned to me. His eyes were an even green that pooled intense emotion, and he looked as if he were trying to read my mind; yet I felt no intrusion.

He was too quiet now.

"Who are you?"

"Daman Jespersson."

My eyebrow rose into a smooth curve. "Well, then, Daman; what business have you traipsing about this hour?"

His eyes glanced away and then back. "I am out running a message for my master; he wishes not to let it be known that of which I inquire, so he asked of me to create this assemble." He emitted a soft sound that resembled a swallow.

I nodded, stepping closer and into the clearer light. "Remove your mask."

Daman shook his head, and a wild fear sparked in his eyes when he fully saw me. "Princess! Oh, you're the princess!" He was quite the opposite of pleased. And he stumbled back when I reached out to grab his face. "Princess, pardon me, but please allow me to keep this secrecy."

Frustration welled up in my chest, but I pushed it back and struggled for decorum. "If you must; can you not at least reveal to me whom your master is?"

Once more, he shook his head. "He would be very sore with me should I reveal his identity."

"Is he abusive to you?" I filed in my mind the nobles of whom I suspected of such acts. Edrolph was among them.

Daman continued shaking his head, and it was getting desperate. "No, Princess. Please, do not worry yourself over this. 'Tis nothing of the matter."

'Princess' was beginning to grate against my ear. I tried to ignore the building irritation. "Well, then; he must trust you very much. This message of yours must be the upmost of importance."

He nodded. "Aye, Princess, and I be much obliged if you would let me continue with it."

And then I thought of something. My arms crossed over my chest and curiosity hummed in my blood like a purr.

Perhaps… just for a day…?

Daman began turning on his heel to leave when I called out for him again. He lost his balance mid-stride and fell into the corner of a garden box. Against the black cloth, he gave a muffled cry and clutched his thigh.

I winced, and then realized he probably would not be much help after all. He was a servant, and, with my luck, had seen as much of the 'outside' as I.

That's when the chord of ringing metal jostled my instincts. I looked down, and there, rolling on its side, was a solid gold goblet.

Daman was ice on the ground. His eyes widened at the object that soaked the color of the moon. Then he looked up at me, terror saturating the green rims.

I picked it up, felt the contours and bends. Cold and weighty. I lifted it towards him. "Care to explain this?"

He groaned, pressing his forehead into the grainy stone of the garden box. With exaggerated slowness, he meandered to his feet, and I watched as his hand grasped a pouch at his side to keep it from swinging. Its contents protruded the bottom in the shape of coins. Gold coins, no doubt.

He cleared his throat, and, when he spoke, his voice held depths of sorrow and contusions that pierced my heart. "I stole it."

I had a choice then. Turn him in – for he should be punished for petty thievery.

Or release him.

_You don't know what's out there. The farther you go past Urû'baen, the more pain and suffering you shall witness._

Perhaps this was the proof that Murtagh was correct. What else but pain and suffering would leave my father's own subjects to try and plunder his home?

And then, I was decided.

I stepped much closer to him, and when I did, he stiffened and leaned away. I expected him to bolt like a frightened horse.

"Please," he said. "I have a little sister that I _have_ to provide for; there is no work for me to earn money for food, and I cannot join the army for fear of leaving her to her death. I watch over an elderly woman as well, and she is crippled. She can do needle work, but we have no more thread and no money to purchase it. Please, Your Highness, have mercy upon me." His had pinched closed his eyes as if it would suppress the inevitable reality before him and turned his face from with shame.

"Remove your mask." I did not order it; my voice remained flat yet confident.

Daman curled gloved fingers beneath the tattered edges of the cloth and pulled it off and over a honey blonde head. His hair fell into his face, and he pushed it back behind his ear. He opened his green eyes, and they were wary as they waited, uncertain but fearing my will. He pursed his lips as if to hold off from begging more, and I noticed the pink skin there was chapped and frayed. The cheekbones under his eyes were defined and strong; a smudge of dirt blended in the sandy skin on his left.

Scruffy and unruly, yet handsome in a roughish way I had not seen before.

I offered a relaxing smile, but Daman only tensed further. "I will not hurt you, Daman. You have the word of the princess."

His mouth parted, eyes gaped.

"On one condition."

He deflated once more.

"Tomorrow, in the very early morning, you return here and let me come with you."

"But–" His voice choked off with such shock.

I shook my head. "It will only be for a day. A… friend of mine made me quite curious as to the essence of the very city I live in. Show me where you come from, and I will let this incident of the night slip entirely from my memory."

Daman frowned, an ounce of fear trickling in return. "How would you go about unnoticed? You have the serene grace and beauty that is appraised to you only. One needs not to have ever seen a portrait of you to know that you are _the_ princess of Alagaësia."

"I have means," I lied.

He scrutinized me a moment before sighing and nodding in agreement. "As you wish, Princess, I shall meet you here in the gardens at daybreak. Any later, and we might not make it out quite so smoothly."

"Wonderful; goodnight to you then, Daman."

He grimaced and bowed. "Goodnight, Princess."

* * *

Evelyn gave a small shriek of fright when I slipped into my bedroom. From her fingers dropped my favored brush, and I noticed the scatter of items on my vanity table. "Gwen! Princess!" She shook her head and attempted a smile. "Where were you? It's after dark, and you know how your moth–"

"I was out taking a walk in the gardens," I said. Then I motioned toward the vanity. "Where you… organizing my things?"

Her cheeks reddened like a burn of the sun. "I hope mi'lady does not mind?"

I stroked her soft hair, a soft smile playing on my lips. "Gwen does not mind at all if Evelyn should decide to assist her. Wonderful girl." I picked up the brush and set it on the table. "Now get me ready for bed; I am quite exhausted."

Evelyn's natural smile returned at the task, and once the routine was complete, I sat in a cushioned chair with Evelyn pulling brush bristles through my wet hair.

"I have an engagement in the morning, Evelyn, that will take me through the entire day," I said.

She nodded in the mirror, copper eyes trained in on the inky locks now as straight and supple as fat thread.

I continued. "Edrolph, nor Mother is to know that I am gone."

"May I ask why?" The girl paused in her draw back.

"You may, but I will not answer. Rest assured I will return by nightfall."

"As you will, mi'lady." She set down the brush and began threading her fingers through my hair. The familiar tug and turn as she braided pulled at my scalp, and the motion was soothing. "Also, your mother wished to see you before you retire; she–"

The door swung open, and Evelyn's fingers stuttered.

Mother's face bunched in sharp dives and dragon's fire, but when her eyes found me in my nightgown, hair partly braided, her frown softened and the fire dimmed.

"Mother, Evelyn says you wished to speak with me?"

She nodded. "Have you heard the news?"

"No, mother; what news?"

Mother eyed Evelyn, and the girl shrunk under her scrutiny. She tied a ribbon knot on the braid and excused herself with a curtsy. Once my bedroom door gave a soft click, Mother whisked me from my vanity and to my goose-feathered bed. "Why you still keep that girl, I will never know."

I scooted under the heavy covers. "I can trust her, Mother, and we are dear friends."

Mother tucked the blankets around me until she was satisfied – the process took around five minutes depending on the night. "She's barely fifteen; you need a woman whom can discuss with you womanhood and how to deal with a husband."

"I am fine, Mother."

She shook her head. "Fine, fine; it was not the matter I came tonight to discuss anyhow." She sat herself beside my shoulder and patted my hair. "Murtagh has returned. With him reaches news that the rebellion in the south is growing swifter."

"Growing?" South – that's where Murtagh had said for me to go.

Mother nodded, frowning as if she had upset me. Her hand brushed the side of my face. "But do not worry, for they will never succeed. Murtagh tells us their Dragon Rider was seriously injured in the battle the Varden have just won."

I blinked. "How dangerous is it down there?"

"There, there; do not worry yourself." Mother removed her hand and stood up. "And before I go, I suppose Edrolph already told you of his new position?"

"Aye, Mother."

"Well, then. I pray that your relationship stays intact with such a development. Good night; I love you." She leaned down and kissed my cheek.

"I love you, too, Mother."

**A/N: The Motivation button is calling you…**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry it's not longer; after this chapter is when the plot starts picking up **

I had trouble sleeping that night. Because of my excitement – or anxiety – I woke up every hour or so, checking the window to see the color of the night. Sighing into my pillow after the fifth instance, I crunched into a ball and sat up in bed.

I groaned and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. My head buzzed, and my eyes protested opening when it was so black out. The only light was the fraction beaming in from the moon. It cascaded a white, milky gleam over my vanity.

The hairs of my arms bristled, and I cocooned my blankets around me. Though Urû'baen was not known for extreme winters, the nights still retained a distinct bite to the bones that alleviated the pain in my eyes.

Steeling my resolve, I slid out from under the covers and stepped onto the cold floor. The hard surface pained the pads of my feet as I strode to the bureau and opened its dark wood doors. Inside were gowns of many makes and models – ball skirts, puffy sleeves, heart-shaped necklines, graceful, simple. But I ignored these and dug underneath them.

_It has to be here somewhere…._

I groaned in frustration when I realized the cloak was missing. _What in Alagaësia would I have done with it?_ So far as I knew, I had not touched that piece of gray cloth since I had stuffed it in there my ten and fifth year – when I snuck into Father's tower (or, rather, tried to).

I looked out the window again and felt the yank of disappointment drag me beneath its waves. With it, a sense of emptiness converged and rankled my ego. On the one hand, Murtagh had made me so _curious_ to know that of which I did not know.All my life I had been taught how the Empire was going to reshape – re_define_ – the whole of Alagaësia. It was splendorous, a fabled legend come alive to weave itself into the fabrics of reality's lives. But if what Murtagh said was true….

I did not know.

And yet I _had_ to know.

I hummed in thought, scraping every last corner of my mind to find where that cloak had gone to. The only other person every really inside my room was Evelyn, but I did not think her brusque enough to simply take an item of clothing of mine without asking. Still, it was a place to start.

As I walked into the sitting room of my chamber, I lifted my heels from the floor and traversed past the roomy obstacles to the doorway on the left side of the room. Knowing she was most likely asleep, I grasped the door knob with a gentle grip and turned in an effort to keep the mechanism as quiet as it would allow. It emitted creaks of annoyance but otherwise was smooth and agreeable.

Evelyn's chest rose and fell to the peaceful lull of her content breaths. Her lean face tilted to the side, leaving me to view only her auburn hair braided to the middle of her parallel back. The sight had me smiling, and I remembered fondly the past five years we had together.

Her room was small and clean. The bed was low to the ground and stiffer than my own. There were no personal trinkets to find, and a shabby wooden bureau stood in the corner of the room. At the foot of her bed was a chest that also ran bare expectations in quality and intricacy.

I kept my feet as silent as shadows – save for the squeak in the wood I encountered twice – and opened the bureau doors. Not much was inside. Three dresses in shades of brown and sheep gray. But the bottom was vacant, and I exhaled sharply.

The chest was the only other hiding place in the room. When I moved to lift its latch, however, Evelyn groaned in her sleep and rolled to the side. I held my breath, counting to ten before releasing it. Quiet.

Now, if I could just find that –

"Gwendolyn?"

Evelyn sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes and patting down her hair.

"Evelyn, deary," I said, moving away from the chest and standing. My lips fitted into an awkward smile that cracked quickly. I sighed. "I need to know if you know whereabouts of my gray cloak, Evelyn."

The girl looked up with sleepy eyes, not comprehending a moment. Then she shook her head. "I have not seen that cloak for some time now."

"Please, Evelyn. I am in dire need of it." Or another one, in the least.

She wavered; the droopy lines in her face tightened –for only a moment – with fear. "Forgive me, Princess, but I do not know where I have put it."

My brain tingled. "Where _you_ put it; last I remember correctly, _I_ was the one who put it away." And, then, my chest hammered. A sudden weight dropped over me in horror.

She was lying to me?

Evelyn scurried out from under her bedcovers and ran to embrace me. "Do not be sore, please! I did not mean you harm!"

I shushed her harshly. "Quiet, will you? We don't want the castle to wake up."

The girl pressed her solemn, shivering head onto my chest. Her shoulder began to shudder as she mumbled, "It was the only thing I took –I swear it. I only meant to borrow it."

I shushed her once more, though more gentle, and my hands brushed her shoulders. "What do you mean now? Borrow it?"

She nodded into the fabric of my nightgown. "To sneak out."

"Sneak… out?"

Her voice cracked. "Every new moon; I meet a boy from the stables, and we... we…he gives me flowers –and he shows me the horses – and he likes me…!"

I sighed, feeling absolutely rude towards fate for such a silly game. I smoothed her back, and whispered, "I need my cloak for this day; show me where you hide it."

Evelyn nodded, though her eyes still pooled fear that – at this early hour – made me feel guilty. She went, not to the chest, but to a clear section of floor beside her bed. With a lopsided frown, she pressed her fingers under what looked to be a natural concave in the wood board and lifted up a secret compartment the size of a serving tray.

She peeked a look at me and saw the question in my expression. "It was already here before me," she said, gritting her teeth and wincing as if she were about to cry.

I felt strangely bound to where I stood, unable to bend my joints to my will. Still, I managed to ask, "How did you come across it?" The idea of finding these delicacies like a cave pocketed with gold beneath the surface wetted my intrigue.

What else could be found?

"I woke up early one morning, and my toe found purchase with the hole. I tripped, and the top jerked up. It was empty when I found it, however." Evelyn rubbed her eyes, and then reached into the hole to pull out the gray cloak. She kneeled there a moment and folded it into a neat square. Then she stood and offered it to me. "Please pardon my not asking, dear Princess; it shall not happen again."

"'Tis of no harm," I soothed, patting her cheek as I took the cloak and moved to leave. "Sleep now, and an hour later rise. Grace be with you."

This calmed the distress marring the girl's perturbed face, and she agreed with a short, shy nod and a timely yawn.

**A/N: Now is probably the best time ever to press that review button; this next chapter is a toughy :-/**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This is THE longest chapter I have EVER written. 7,206 word that I really hope you enjoy **

Returning to my room, I unfolded the cloak like I had seen a servant unroll a carpet after dusting. Its length billowed about my legs, and the fabric retained the subtle shimmer of silver. When I slipped my arms into the sleeves, they held no form, and I frowned at the young woman in the image. The hood pulled over my head did little more than cast a shadow over half my face – from the right temple to the left backside of my smooth jaw. My eyes were soft in the weak hours, the rustic hue intense as my irritation quickened. Inky black were the threads of my head that spilled over my shoulders like heavy drapes. The aligned, pointed tip of my nose cringed at the smell of horse filth and hay that attested to the truth of Evelyn's words.

It would have to do.

I had a slice of time still to await morning, but I had naught else to do but return to my bed and try to calm my anxious heart. Because my stomach was empty, it gnawed most especially deafening. The sensation was equitable to sickness.

I did not rise until the pinks of the rising sun reached like infant tentacles to the sky in my window. Only then did I dress myself in the simplest of gowns I owned (which then still retained a dark purple beneath it that was almost black) and slide out of my chamber.

The corridors that I chose were silent and open. Gratitude warmed like sour milk when I thought of the arrogance of my own father. While there were plenty guards about the castle, he did not supply them for every inch and shadow and instead concentrated them in specific areas. My rooms were not so fortunate as to receive such splendorous consideration.

The gardens, I realized with annoyance, were however otherwise engaged with early risers watering the plants, trimming leaves, and moving in such a way as to resemble ants. Nowhere did I see the honey blonde hair of the night before, nor the intense green gaze. Only bobs of various browns.

"Seems you overlooked the morning activity," a voice said behind me.

Gasping, I wheeled around.

Daman leaned against the wall, appraising the shock of my expression as I attempted to calm myself. He wore a threadbare tunic the color of wood and dark pants. And he looked no cleaner than the night before.

"I…no…." I shook my head and clasped my hands over the flaps of my cloak.

He shrugged and motioned me toward the left edge of the garden. No servants were tending the plant life in this section. But we had to be careful about the stretch of space between where we were and where Daman was headed.

"There is a deformity in the wall structure along that wall there," he said, pointing to the tall brick construction that was the barrier between the outside world and I. "I noticed it once when I was searching for the simplest entrance in."

Daman stopped before a moss vine and pursed his lips at me. The dark fur of his brows clinched in, and the forest beneath his eyes darkened like the night. He reached to the side of my face and tugged on the edge of my hood.

I flinched with him so near. "This will have to do," I told him, my voice strained.

He muttered under his breath. "Stay in my shadow. And pray to the Gods perchance we might have some luck with us today." Though from the hard bite in his tone, I knew he wished more luck upon himself than on me.

Daman then turned back to the stretch of green belt along the wall. Pulling back the film like a curtain, he revealed a gouge in the brick work.

An image of Shruikan soared over my mind.

It was in the shape of a cragged triangle, almost as if the massive black beast had stepped his toenail in just the right place. Why it had never been sealed, however, escaped me.

Daman seemed to understand the uncertainty hovering about me like nuisance insects. "I have no doubt the King sanctioned the hole to be filed in, but there is too no doubt in my mind that whoever was given the orders to do so saw the gold in such a slip."

"Father would never be so foolish as to have the wool of a servant pulled over his eyes," I said.

Daman let the comment drop. "C'mon, now; there are only so many hours in a day to waste away." He fell to his knees and crawled through the hole. His shoulders were nearly too broad to fit comfortably in, and he grunted as he pulled through and the stone grated the skin.

When he disappeared on the other side, I hesitated to fall after. There was a patch of grass that beckoned to the opening of the outside – taller, almost wilder.

A gust of warmth walled the length of my back. My heart dropped, and I knew someone was behind me.

"I have not the slightest as to why ye're standin' there, Evee." A hand dropped on my shoulder. "But ye best be gettin' back to where ye belong. The Princess, she will be worried of ye, she will." I durst not turn my back.

"Aye, Evee am I." And the color dripped into my voice. My chest warmed; my throat thickened. "Go now, and worry not over I, for the Princess knows where I may go."

The hand tensed and then slacked. "Aye, aye" The hand slipped off my shoulder, and the voice faded off. Their departure shifted the blades of the grass and was heavy on the cobblestone.

I sighed and drop to my knees. I had to push the cloak to my sides to avoid crawling on the fabric as I made my way under the stone.

Outside.

Its smell did not differ. I gripped the sigh flowing through my lips and lifted to my feet. The stretch of morning light was lean and flat across the overlay of grass and brought to the eye the points of four towers – tall, lean, graceful in their gleam that shot emerald hues like dots of star lights. They were not an unfamiliar sight, having seen them numerous times in the frame of windows. But they shot a flush of warmth to erupt in my chest. My heart lurched almost sickly with a solid pound.

Below the towers were the visible rooftops of buildings. Compared to the edifices that grew above, these stone creations lacked the true elegance and made the whole of the city seem dusty gray. People lived out here, people I had not yet encountered. And, now, so close to this new experience, I faltered in my resolve.

"Beautiful, isn't it, Princess?" Daman glanced my way, the dark glint in his eyes further hardening.

"Where shall we go?" I asked. My limbs seemed to become more aware, and I stepped closer to him.

The question pinched him in some way. "Where… indeed…." And his voice was hot.

The trepidation churned its way into my stomach. "Have you not thought of where to take me? Where should I see the best?" I pointed up toward the emerald towers. "Have you not been near those?"

He was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of soft sound that made me wonder if he were muttering under his breath. Then he cleared his throat of emotion and said outright, "You told me last night you wished to see the essence of this city. If that holds true, _that –_" he, too, pointed at the towers "– is not where you shall find the true essence."

I frowned. "Then where shall we be?"

Daman grimaced. "Just stay close to my side," he answered finally and lifted his arm out like a wing.

An invitation, I noted.

Slipping my arm into his, we began the trek across a section of empty space before reaching the beginnings of the city. Daman's muscles bunched, as if he felt vulnerable or nervous. He pace quickened, and soon he had to pull me along.

Then there came the gray buildings. Stone stacked upon stone sheltered with a top of black and a chimney. They were tall at first – though no where near as tall as the towers or my Father's citadel. But they loomed like dark eyes swollen with anger or judgment. It was as if they knew I was familiar yet an outsider. And they began to emit waking sounds. The hush of the morning was slowly fading into the tune of scuttles and muffled voices.

I fell closer to Daman's step as he slowed.

Though I expected to continue down the colorless street, Daman turned a sharp right and into a black wedge. The jerk on my arm elicited a small squeak from my throat, and the noise returned the taut stress in his arms.

We were swallowed in the shadows. The people sounds were louder on either side of us but muffled, and Daman did not seem to be concerned by them. Rather, he moved about in these shadows as if they were lit by the noon day sun.

He stopped, and I walked into his side. "This will be a tight space," he warned. "Not many know of these close-knit networks of alley, and I would like to keep it as such." He unwound our arms and instead gripped my hand. Quiet aired us as he slid further into the unseen.

It was narrow. I had to waddle sideways to walk comfortably, and I could feel it when my breath bounced in rapid spurts on my chin. The cloak rubbed the stone wall on my back. It smelt… wet. Acidic, perhaps. Not at all what permeated the castle.

My foot pressed onto something soft and thick, solid and fat, that emitted a freakish squeal and scurried from under my frigid toes. Its warmth had radiated on my arch.

I felt a hand whoosh to my face and cover my mouth. Daman muffled my screech.

_Why am I… here?_ My eyes wetted in my surprise.

Daman hushed me. "We are almost there." When he took my hand again, he squeezed it, and I thought I heard him sigh (though the sound seemed as wistful as a passing breeze).

My feet traversed with more care now – to the point I dragged us down. But Daman was patient. It surprised me his earlier annoyance seemed to fade. Or perhaps he did not want to chance me screaming again.

We turned a handful more of corners, each a varied distant apart and sometimes obtuse or acute. The further we slunk, the damper my back became. The slime was a lotion on my skin. The palms of my hands were hot and sweaty – yet frigid and painful to move. _Murtagh, I will haunt you from the grave_, I vowed. Regret slicked down my conscious, and I wondered what had ever possessed me to go beyond the castle walls.

_Mother rubbed sweet oil on my short arms, humming a soft melody I sung in my dreams. Her hand cupped my chin and then smoothed the patch of throat where my voice rested beneath. My lips were pinched, and tears clustered the tight squints of my eyes. Hot warmth was like a fever where Mother touched, sore from protesting and shouting and crying with might. The scrapes on my palms and fingers throbbed. _

"_But why can I not go outside and play with the other girls?" My voice burned. _

_Mother wiped the tears that dripped down my inflamed cheeks. "Shh, hush, my darling." She patted my hair._

"_I can find lots of people to sing to in the city, Mother. And they would like that," I said. _

_She took my arm and led me to the rocking chair in the corner. Our feet shuffled on the ornate rug that padded the hard floor. I liked the carpet; it kept my feet from hurting when I played too much. _

_I looked over to the single window in the room. Tips of emerald attempted to reach my mother's chambers , but the darkness was setting upon them, and they were getting blacker. Seeing this made me cry again. And I hiccupped as I sobbed. _

_When Mother sat in the rocking chair, I climbed into her soft lap and cuddled into her side. Her arms fell over me and soothed the bunching of my back. "You will thank me one day, Gwendolyn, for what I do. I tell you not to go out there for reasons you can not yet comprehend. It is a dark, dangerous land, my dear."_

_Through my tears, I blubbered, "But doesn't Father protect us?"_

_She nodded. "Aye, he does, but even he cannot wipe the world of its sins. Try as he might, there are still bad people who would hurt you to get to him. We want to protect you."_

"_Mary Ann says there's nothing to be afraid of."_

"_Mary Ann is only eight." _

_I frowned and leaned my head on her collar bone. "But what if the other girls get to go into the city and I must be left alone? What will I do then?" _

"_You will come back inside and have Lilyanna entertain you," Mother said. _

_I sat up and grimaced, making a wretched noise. "She's such a _bore_!" _

_Mother scowled. "She's your teacher. You must speak about her with respect. That is what a lady of Urû'baen would do."_

"_What if I don't want to be a lady?" Turning my head to the side, I glared at the crimson velvet back of a chair that sat the middle of its siblings around a tea table. "Murtagh is allowed into the cities – and he never goes _anywhere_." _

_Mother touched my chin and brought my gaze back to hers. Her eyes were like leafy rings, the color of the food on my supper plate that tasted of nothing. "Where did you hear of this?" _

_The heat in my skin swelled up past my cheeks and into my temples. My nose burned as if a candle flame. "Nowhere…."_

_She let it pass, and her eyes lifted to look at the ceiling. I looked there, too, but it was devoid of anything of interest. It was gray-black, and a small, simple chandelier hung in the center of it. _

"_Regardless, Gwendolyn, you are not to go out past these castle walls ever. Do you understand me?" Mother's grip on my chin tightened, and her frown creased. _

_I nodded. "Aye, Mother. I shall not disobey you."_

_She placed a quiet kiss on my forehead._

The blackness was shifting. An arm of gray reached around the last corner like a ray of sunshine. Daman's clasp relaxed when we walked into it, and then he let go of my hand.

We were in the gulp of another alley. But here was not so quiet.

"Ey! It's the boy in black!" A shadow called from the ground. When I strained my eyes, I realized it was a man hunched in tattered, holey rags.

Daman half-smiled and shook his head. "Ye're goin' to blow m' cover, Heckles. Shush it."

Heckles chuckled – a raspy, light burst from his gut. "Don' want people to be askin' why ye've got a pretty lil' lady with ye?"

Daman ignored him and wrapped my arm around his like before. I tugged down my hood one last time in an effort to enclose my face.

Heckles continued to hackle in the dark as we passed his skeletal form. At the mouth of the alley sat another man as well, though he slumped and snored in deep sleep. I could not distinguish if his skin was dirt brown or if his lighter skin was covered by the earthen mud.

Daman lowered his head and brought it near my ear. "Do not speak up when others call. Do not stray from my side. On the castle grounds, you may be ruler, but here – this is where I am prince."

I pursed my lips but nodded. And we swung into the street. The morning sun was lifting now, and early risers were pecking about the gray world. Daman did not reach out to any person, nor did any one stop us.

A woman tended a garden box the size of a supper plate, in which was planted a green stem shriveled and producing yellow-orange fruits. Her body was covered with a sheep-gray dress that was torn along the edges and thin as my sheer lace. The skin that stretched over her skinny arms was smudged similar like Daman, and her fingers worked among her plant's leaves with the care and tenderness as a mother delivered to her child.

Another part of the street featured a worn sign, the letters too faded to read. Its entrance had chipped wood, and the ground before it was patted down and hardened like solid floor. The window for this building was somewhat wider than the others, and from inside appeared a wispy-haired man with sunken eyes and fat lips.

"You lie to me," I whispered to Daman.

His mouth tightened, as if to keep from responding.

We roamed for what seemed to be an hour. So desolate was this area, the color appeared drained from the bodies that lived here.

_No_.

A child scampered into our path, his left leg wrapped in soiled cloth. In his hast to rush into the shallow mouths, he twisted in an awkward step and fell into my side. Daman swung me back to keep me on my feet, but the boy rolled of my legs and onto the arid ground. He began whimpering – eyes pinched and glistened with tears – and gripped his wound.

"Where is his mother…?"

Daman gave no answer.

I tried to lean down to him, but Daman held me back. Shaking his head in a wordless gesture, he pulled me away from the child and farther down the street.

Then there was the adolescent that hid in the shadows. He did not look at us, but his eyes shone and his mouth widened as his fingers clutched with last reserve to a dirtied pouch. From it, I could hear the faint jingle of coins.

"_Why did you do it?" I frowned as Murtagh chortled a rude bark of laughter and slapped his thigh. We were in the hallways, finding privacy after a short-lived excursion to the ballroom. Uriah, I imaged, was now in tears, and would not again want to visit me. And for that I blamed Murtagh and his discourteous stunt. _

"_Have you not eyes to see?" he jabbed. "I have not in all my ten and five years seen such a large nose. How could I not comment? Your mother always scolded me to tell the truth." Murtagh leaned his length against the gray brick wall. Chuckles still bubbled up from his chest that shook and jump. _

_I looked down either side of the corridor. We were alone. _

"_You are no better than a commoner!" I bit my tongue. _

_The mirth cut off from his throat like the slice of a knife on a taut rope. "Do you even know that of which you speak?" _

_The tip of my nose warmed. "Mother tells me many things. I should not go out of the castle. It is a dangerous place. Why else if not for the commoners?"_

"_But have you _seen_ them?"_

_I shook my head, feeling the heat stretch across my cheekbones. "N-n-no."_

"_Because you are a lady?"_

"_Aye, and a lady need not tire herself over such trivialities." _

_Murtagh scrunched up his nose. "Hu?"_

"_Lilyanna says it is not needed that I go out among the people. It is not my duty."_

_Murtagh gagged, bending over his knees and sticking his tongue far out. Then he straightened back up and gazed at me pointedly."_That_ is why we do not speak as we used to. They have changed you, Gwen."_

"_No, they have not changed me. I simply agree."_

_He rolled his eyes, still appearing disgusted and bored with the topic. "Then I thank the gods I am not _you_."_

_My shoulders hunched, and a patch in my chest felt stung. "Why should you not wish to be me? I am good. I do as my parents tell me." Then my eyebrows furrowed. "Not much like _you_. You find the wrath of the kitchen cook near most every day." I smirked and crossed my arms. _

_But, to my jargon, Murtagh was not affected. He shrugged and said, "At least I _know_."_

"_Know what?"_

_His lips curved into a cruel smile, and he flicked his gaze over to where footsteps were padding nearer. "I see your mother headed this way. It is time for us to part!" _

_I growled when his grin grew. _

"_Such a very un-lady-like noise." He _tsked_ and tried to slink away. _

"_But _what_ do you know?_"

_The mean laugh returned. Murtagh wretched me closer and said by my ear, "My little secret." He released me and skipped into a sprint down the corridor. _

_Mother appeared beside me, watching after Murtagh's retreating figure with a dipped brow and a flat frown. She murmured to me, asking if I was alright. _

"_I am fine. Murtagh is simply indulging in his games again," I replied. _

_She bit her lips and sat her hands akimbo on her hips. "Whatever he has blubbered to you, I advise you to eradicate it from your memory. That boy is becoming increasingly notorious. I not longer know what to do with him." Mother sighed. _

"_Aye, Mother; he has spoken nonsense."_

Nonsense indeed.

"There is something I must show to you." Daman's soft words coaxed me from my mind, and I looked up to the man with a knitting brow.

The sun raced us to wherever it was Daman was leading me. It slivered down the street, casting the bright white color onto the blank pallet earth. On either side, the houses seemed to darken. Webs were more common here, and the dust was like a thick layer of cream; it pervaded the air with a stuffy, chilled effect that burned my nose and made it hard to breathe fully.

My voice clamped to the edges of my throat, fat and clogged. Some ten feet from me was the jagged windowsill of an abandoned shop. Its door sat crooked, the wood splintered and beginning to rot. Daman turned me an obtuse right, and we passed the chips in its brick structure.

"Why is this place so empty?" I looked up to Daman as I would have my mother. Confused. Curious. Wary.

He motioned with his arm forward, and my eyes followed.

There, cragged in the corner and dull despite the rise in light, was an emerald stump. It stood taller than mine and Daman's heights put together, and coated in grim like I wore ballroom garments. The shop building seemed to box it in against the flat backs of other buildings that faced the opposite street.

"To answer your inquiry," Daman began, "this place is revered as cursed and haunted. It was once as tall and graceful as its sisters to the south, and the area around it was not left to the merchants for feeding ground."

"What happened to it?" I removed myself from his arm and stepped towards the stump.

"The inhabitants of this city attempted to overtake some of the landlords for an unwanted raise in taxes. After a mob chase, two of the eight landlords were caught here with naught to do but surrender. Unfortunately, some of the mob members were vengeful – the taxes caused a starvation to invade their homes and killed off their youngest children. One man even lost his wife. Another was left with no business and had to beg off the streets for sustenance. They called for the blood of the two landlords and managed to persuade the mob to murder the men not three feet from the base of this tower. The King received word of the deed and was wroth. Two nights after the murders, Shruikan flew above the sky, blanketing the moonlight. It was quick. Clean. He swooped from above and knocked down the tower. It crushed nearly every person living as it rolled. Then the great dragon retrieved it, and flew it off to where no one knows. Ayame says that ever since, the people durst not disturb this sight. The King had the physical carnage erased, but the emotional wreckage marred the minds of all. The houses near here have never been homes."

My feet stopped. _Surely I would have learned of this in the histories?_ "Why have you brought me here? Are you not afraid of this curse?"

Daman grunted. "You do not believe me?"

"I believe you." Though… even _I_ knew not if I spoke the truth. "But I see no purpose in it."

He was quiet for a time, and I wondered if he heard me. I walked back to him, feeling a rush through my core that unnerved me.

"This… stump… is your people," he said finally.

_Improbable_. The stump stood silent, shadows sashaying over the gray and filth.

"Do you mean to insult me?" A rather un-lady-like scoff colored my dark tone.

Daman gaped, and a sudden fear brightened his eyes. He stumbled back from me, as if I were a poison. "No, I mean nothing by it." A brush of courage touched him, and his face hardened. "You wanted me to show you the truth, and I have. Keep thy word and do not have me punished for it."

I frowned and crossed my arms. "I will not." I sighed. Though the early hours were creeping, exhaustion bogged down my limbs, and now I wanted to return, to be warm in my bed – to forget all I had witnessed this day.

Daman could see the slack in my shoulders and inquired, "Have you seen what you have wished, dear Princess?"

I nodded. "Would you be so kind as to escort me home?"

He moved to take my arm again when he stopped – jostled. His eyes focused on the shadows, seeing some deviation I could not.

"Kharisa?" He sounded irritated yet worried.

"Who is Kharisa?" I put my hand on his arm and the other over my face.

Daman growled. "Kharisa, I know you are out there! What is the meaning of this?"

The shadows shifted, and now I could see the outline of an elongated shadow. From behind a house, a female head peeked around its corner and blinked at Daman. Her cheeks were inflamed, and her eyes were large and bright.

Kharisa obeyed Daman. Her legs took slim steps and gave little jarring movement to upset the fabric of her brown gown. She pushed back a length of hair the color chestnuts and fisted her palms in nervous repetition.

_His sister_, I realized, watching the green rims that made her eyes shiver in their embarrassment.

"Juju saw you with a young woman, and I wanted to meet her," said the little girl. But the words were flat and shaky at best.

Daman shook his head and sighed. "What have I said about following me, Kharisa? Where I go, it is not always safe." He went to her, leaving me aloof, and kneeled so as to be at her level. His hand curved over the jutting bone of her shoulder, rubbing in a subtle, circular motion. "I want for you to be safe with Ayame. She needs your help."

Kharisa turned her nose. "Ayame needs no more help than a crow. She was napping when I left her."

"And now you will go back to her," Daman said.

"But Caden, I–"

His hand clamped over her mouth, and he hushed her – harsh and hurried. "You will do as I say. We will discuss this later."

_Caden? A family name perhaps?_

The girl peeked up at me, and she shook her head.

Daman groaned. "What shall I ever do with you?" He removed his hand from her face and stood up.

"I want to meet her," said Kharisa with finality.

My blood stilled.

Daman tried to engulf her into a hug, but his sister skipped backwards and spun off to the side. Her giggle was like the ringing of a celebratory toast as she danced and dodged her brother. She curved in a spin to where I stood unmoved and wrapped her lanky arms around my waist, muffling her voice into my skirt.

"_Oh_ dear…!" I looked to Daman for help.

Kharisa beamed up at me. "Do you like my brother?" She cocked her squared head to the side, and added when I didn't respond, "Caden. Do you like my brother Caden?"

"Caden?" I echoed.

Daman grabbed her and ripped her from my body. She squealed, both of fright and delight, and began kicking at his legs.

Kharisa shouted the word Caden again, and it rung in my ears. _Caden!_

Aye, I wished to be away from here and to erase such silly notions of this world from my mind.

"Daman, put her down; I would like to go now." My impatience led to the sharp inflection in my voice, and Daman's body followed in snap precision.

When her feet touched the ground, Kharisa gave me a look of awe and wonder. "Caden! She must meet Ayame. She must! Oh, please say she must!" Her legs pumped her into the air with a young zeal that warmed my heart.

Daman flashed me an apologetic smile and shook his head at his sister. "My friend needs to be home very soon, and I must take her back."

Kharisa ran to me and snatched onto my arm like a vice. "Oh don't let it be so! You _must_ visit with Ayame. She will like you, and she ever so rarely has visitors!"

This child reminded me of someone, but my mind could not form the correct connection. Irritated, I clasped my hands over the flaps of my cloak and eyed Daman. But he was intent on his sister as she continued to plead for my attendance.

"Kharisa, you have the mannerisms of a flea," he said in a low grunt, shaking his head.

"I must leave."

But Kharisa complained. "Just for a tiny minute! And if you get in trouble, you can tell your Mother it was _all_ my fault – cause it really is!" Her nodding bounced her body, and soon she was dizzy. Then she giggled.

I had resolved to spend a day among the unknown, and I was not lasting past the noon hour. This pricked my conscious and puffed my ego. _Surely I will find no harm in appeasing to this sweet – although erratic – girl?_

"Then I will go." My body stiffened when the girl squeezed me in a tight hug.

"Then it is so! Then it is so!" she cried and pulled on my hand. "Let us go. I will lead!"

A curve of worry indented Daman's brow. He appeared to be battling within himself on the proper course of action. But then he shivered and shook his head, as if dispelling any wearisome thoughts. "We must not make a ruckus in the streets," Daman warned.

"But she is my new friend," Kharisa said. Her grip on my fingers increased till they were throbbing with lazy thumps. "Juju will wish to meet her. And Chorie – and Marcie – and Pebbles!" Her mouth ran like the steady, consistent clops of horse hooves. And it dragged me with a surprising speed down the abandoned district. Daman's light footfalls were absolute ghosts, and I had a strong feeling I could hear where he was only because he chose to let me.

"Please do not run so, little one." I swallowed back serious emotion in my voice, loath to order Kharisa when she moved in free spurts and aloof of gray and black.

Her twinkling laugh soothed me some, and I found myself eventually keeping pace with her strides. There was nearly the movement of a true smile emerging. _She is happy._ Strangely, I liked that thought.

We closed in on the more populated sections now. Daman overtook us and blocked his sister from darting headlong into the people. "Listen to my friend, Kharisa, and do not wear her so." He patted her head. "I know you mean well, but please allow us to walk to Ayame?"

Kharisa had frowned at his initial reprimand, but at the direction of a simple question, her smile glowed, and she had no trouble consenting. "I would enjoy taking a walk with you and your special friend, but I am watching you, Caden! No touching her with your mouth, or I will tell Ayame what a bad boy you are." Her tone lowered in attempting to imitate maturity and authority. Daman, however, grimaced and glanced at me in the corner of his eye. "I saw Freesia and Gregor doing that at night one time, and Marcie told me only bad people mouth each other. It is like hitting or biting. It isn't nice."

Flames torched the tip of my nose and fanned across my cheeks to the hairline of my temples. "We will be behaved; I assure you."

Daman grunted and made sure to keep at least a little distance between us after that.

Kharisa strolled – as much as one can stroll when their limbs are jittering with zealous excitement – to a part of the city Daman had yet to show me. It was no better off in physical appearance than the area where the boney woman, the crying, crippled child, or Heckles the beggar lived, but there were more residents mulling about. Although, I supposed, it could have been the later morning hours. The sun was now a quarter stretch into the sky.

The stone homes contained no deviation from one to the other. Gray encroached over every inch like a fog. For this I was grateful. It further concealed my identity and made the anxiety lax in my stomach.

"Which house is yours?" I asked Kharisa, stepping around two women whose heads were bent in deep discussion

Kharisa moved in decision, without hesitance. Due to her wide smile and vibrancy, I concluded we were near her home. Daman, in contrast, became increasingly tense. "We do not have a house," she said.

"Pardon?" I blinked and sucked in a quick breath.

Daman explained. "We do not have the funds sufficient to live under the stable shelter of any of these buildings."

"Oh." And I fell silent. _No wonder Daman was so desperate as to thieve from my father._

He sighed, and his eyes glazed as if he were reminiscent or deep in contrasting thoughts.

Kharisa turned me to the front of an alley. "_This_ is where I live." And she coaxed me within.

Above, shielding from the weather was provided by a tight overhang between two stone houses and a gritty cloth to further cover the gap where the overhang did not reach in full. Little sunlight trickled in through such a roof, and there were no candles lit underneath. The only light was a fraction of sun that stroked the open's corner and splayed up the wall. Overall, the alley was a small one with a solid, black back and the width of two doors. In the silvery shadows, a sitting woman leaned against the rear wall and cocked her head just so to the side.

When she spoke – how she could know so readily that we had arrived, I knew not – her voice rasped like wispy smoke and yet was gentle and pleasant. "I knew you were going back when I did not find you at your post in the dawn." She wheezed a soft laughing sound. "And you brought a girl with you – what a surprise." Though her tone hinted that – to her – it was of no such thing.

Strange woman.

"How does the morning fare with you?" Daman went to sit at an angle beside her. He leaned to her and pressed a kiss upon her white brow.

"Well enough," the woman replied.

"Ayame! I believed you to be asleep!" Kharisa shook her head, and her bottom lip trembled.

Ayame wheezed more. "I am not so old as to fool you, child."

Daman chuckled at this.

I stood watching their interaction and felt the sudden need to leave – to bury away the conflictions simmering in my chest.

Kharisa urged me closer to Ayame. "Look here, Ayame! See this friend that Caden has found? He showed her the haunted place."

"_That _tower?" I could see vaguely the white shape of Ayame's chin as she turned to look upon Daman. "Caden, what an _intriguing_ choice to… view."

"Caden?" Something ruffled in my brain. Kharisa was not the only one to call Daman Caden, then. The old woman spoke of him as such as well.

Daman-Caden winced and then glared at the wall.

Kharisa giggled. "Ayame, I like his friend. She is so silly." She turned to me. "Did you not know the name of my brother as he walked with you? Are you a–"

Daman cut her off. "Kharisa, there is no purpose in insulting the woman. We have discussed your usage of the word in the past, have we not?"

The girl hung her head. "Aye, brother. But I do not understand."

"Nor I, though perhaps it is becoming clearer," I said. This man had lied to me in regards to his thievery. Why, then, should he not lie to me about his name?

Daman-Caden exhaled a long, methodical breath, pinching his eyes closed and then opening them up to look at me. With a sorrowful tone similar to when he had confessed to his crimes and begged for his life, he said, "I was wary, and for that I beg your pardon."

"I gave you my word. Think you so little of me?"

He shook his head. "No, but I was fearful nonetheless."

Kharisa fell into her brother's lap and hugged his chest. "You are the bravest, Caden. You could stand up to the face of the great King himself, I'll bet."

Caden chuckled but it was forced and heavy. "Aye, I know you would." His words dissipated into the air, and the anxious quiet crawled down my spine.

"Well, enough of this!" Ayame's chin pointed my direction. "Sit beside me and be not afraid. The past is the past, and we are here now."

I consented, however stiffly. My limbs were like sticks the way they would not bend to my will so easily without cracking or snapping. The ground was hard-pressed under my skin, and I in no way relaxed the tension in my face that squinted my eyebrows and flared my nostrils.

Clearing my throat and clenching my fingers, I decided to ask, "Why is it that you must live like this?" It was the simplest of questions that caused me the least pain and irritation.

Daman (now Caden, I reminded myself) pursed his lips and pulled Kharisa tighter against his chest. "We do what we must to survive."

I said what first entered my muffled mind. "Can you not hunt with bows and arrows? A knife? Why must you steal?"

The gap between Caden's eyes constricted as if suspicious of a double meaning behind my words. But Ayame's wheezing laughter halted him from responding. "Ayame!"

Her thin fingers touched my arm, cold and wrinkled. "How would you suppose Caden hunt with a bow when he has no conception of _aim_?"

Caden muttered hot retorts, his cheeks blazon like the kiss of the summer sun.

"Then why not sword or a knife of some sort; I could provide you with such commodity." The castle was hardly the safest location to thieve and plunder.

"We do not live beside a forest where such a task is much simpler." Caden scoffed. "Much less is it within the bounds of this city to leave and return with sustenance for the empty belly. How then would the merchants and the producers receive their wages?" His last statement was edged with bitter sarcasm.

I bit my lip, feeling as a rabbit on the run from a fox. _So much wealth and yet so much poor_. I did not like feeling this sudden snap of enclosure that barred me from clarity. Out. I needed to get out. But then was _in_ again. And was I not just as trapped?

Caden set his sister off his lap and to the side. He addressed me. "I will escort you home."

I nodded. "Aye, let us leave."

Kharaisa's lower lip jutted out. "But you have not yet met all of my friends! And I do not know your name. Please do not leave us just yet." Her arms moved as if to hug me and prevent me from leaving, but her brother snatched her upper arms and held them to her side.

"We have bothered her enough, Kharisa."

A sharp glint smarted her eyes, and I was reminded of a similar spark of the pupils from my younger years – Murtagh teasing Uriah.

Kharisa slumped within herself, murmuring a quiet goodbye to me and that she hoped to see me once more. I nodded, for it seemed cruel to twist the dagger already stabbed into her fragile heart.

Caden motioned me towards the entrance, and we stood in sequence. I was conflicted a moment, whether it was needed that I leave or that I stay to witness the good and the bad in whole. But I shook the thoughts from my mind and focused on the image of my mother.

Mother knew what was best for me, and she knew what she meant when she told me to stay away all those years. This was not a feeling I understood that pained my heart.

I took a step out onto the street.

"Ho there!"

"Halt!"

From either side a swarm of black armored men crowded me. One reached his arm around my waist and drew me back from the alley. Caden had no reaction time and was seized by three soldiers.

A spear was jabbed in threat to his throat, and Kharisa's squeal of fright pierced the stone air. The soldiers ignored the noise and jerked Caden forward, twisting his arms behind his back.

"You are hereby arrested for the kidnapping of the Princess – the daughter – of King Galbatorix," one of the men sneered.

Caden growled and struggled to free himself. He wrenched free his right arm and swung it at the nearest black helm. His fist hit the metal, and he howled, falling back into the other men.

"Fighting will do you no good."

I shoved at the black armored suit that refused to release me. "Unhand me!"

The man dropped his arm and fell back a step, though his eyes were conflicted. "We are under direct orders to bring you safely back to the castle, Princess."

"_Who's_ orders?" I imaged strangling Sir Edrolph for such an inconvenience.

"Queen Verdandi, Princess."

_Mother._


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: This is sorta a filler. **

"_Mother_."

She swiveled to the side of her chair, thin brows raised and dainty fingers holding over the rim of her vanity. Half her face appeared pale and light, while the other was full and shadowed with rogue and powder.

"Gwendolyn!" There then spread the wide, elated smile that gave her the softness of a bloomed adolescence.

Mother rose from her cushioned chair to greet me at the opening of her chamber room. It was larger than my own, the size of two of the stone homes from the outside, and as such created a moment of conflicting tensions to where I stood glaring and she moved with joy.

When she embraced me, her sigh was that of release, as if she had been pent up with stress and was now relieved of it. "Gwen, my precious girl." She held my cheeks and kissed my forehead. "When I heard the glorious news, I came in the morning to give you grace – but, alas! You were no where to be found!"

"Why did they arrest the young man from the streets?" I asked.

Mother seemed to realize I was not holding her in return and stepped away from me. With a simple, innocent-like tone, she said, "He had kidnapped you, darling. That _is_ a crime worth punishment."

"But he did not kidnap me – I left on my own." I sighed, slapping my palm to my forehead. The explanation gushed from my heart like water rushing in a flood. "I had never seen what was before me, Mother, and I was so curious to know. I asked the nice boy to show me different sections of the city. He did _not_ kidnap me!"

Mother frowned. "You chose to leave these grounds?"

I nodded, though it was slow as suddenly Mother's bright voice darkened as the city.

"You do not belong among the sand mites and fleas. You're a Princess!" Mother jerked her body to the left and with a swing of her arm and went to settle herself down by her vanity once more. "The daughter of King Galbatorix is not to bald her beautiful, sweet head over the woes of every single, poverty-stricken fool."

"But they are sinking, Mother! They are not well," I said, feeling a welling of conviction bind my chest. "Can we not help them?"

"Why do you think as such?" But Mother brought her face to the glistening mirror and continued to paste together her shapely face.

I swallowed. "I simply thought… things were not so… _bad_. I thought we treated them well."

"We do, darling," said Mother as she patted pink onto her long cheeks. "But they are not so grateful to us."

The binds constricted my breath. I could not feel naught but the incisive _pounding_ of blood in my brain. _Where was the fine line?_ It was as if I had lived my life blind, only to regain my vision and become overwhelmed with the vibrancy of this world.

So I left Mother.

Though it was not my favorite of choices, I owed it to Daman (Caden) to get him released from the dungeon. _Before_ he was killed for a crime he didn't commit.

I had to speak with my father.

Striding through the main hall, passing the long furls of flag and pomp, I wrestled with the pressing building in my heart. Anxiety. Guilt. Confusion. Why did I care of Caden's fate? He had lied to me. He had stolen from my home. In all respects, he proved every word I had ever heard of the common people.

But I said I would not allow harm to befall him. And a true lady was prided for her word.

Deep in my conscious, I saw the lithe, jittery form of Kharisa. In her, I saw not the flaws of her brother, but a glow of fire and light that made her little home seem that much brighter. Such a flame could not be filth.

My footfalls were muffled against the crimson red threads of the rectangular, path-like carpet. Its gold crowning was braided and elicited a soft glitter in the low light of the torch flames. When I ended the corridor stretch, I turned to weave outside to the gardens and found myself alone and quiet. This surprised me, for it was only a few acute tilts after noonday.

From in the center of the garden boxes, plumped with an array of lively colors opened with wide arcs to the glory of the sun, I could view the tall gait of the citadel where my father was most known to reside. He was a solitary man, and it was not rare that I went from month to month without word or glimpse of him.

_"Stand up straight." My back was slapped. "Do not pout; do not whine; do not ask for trivial items. Leave all this for your mother." Fingers tugged up my bent chin, pinched my cheeks, and smoothed the inconsistencies in my hair. _

_ Lilyanna's round face was perturbed so that the edges of her cheeks invaded the space of her mouth. In her clenched hands resided, much like Shruikan, a long, white-brown stick that she swatted into her closed palms with a consistent rhythm the likes of acapella music. _

_ I frowned at the device, though it was not often I felt its wrath. It was unnerving, yet it had no true teeth to bite me with, nor claws to scratch me. Still… it was unpleasant. _

_ "Impressions matter, Princess Gwendolyn," Lilyanna continued. "It is agreeable that your father like you, is it not?"_

_ "Aye, Madame Lilyanna."_

_ She swayed on her heels and motioned towards farther in the distance. _

_ The golden doors swung open._

It swung in a wide arch.

I rubbed the curve of my throat as I stepped through the gauze of darkness and into the throne room of King Galbatorix. It was an endless hole, the sunlight from the crystal sky above barely emitting a soft glow over the expansive chamber. Two lines of sentential lanterns provided consistent, white light down a wide path. At the end was the rise of the dais where a black form straightened in his seat and lifted a finger to beckon me forward.

"Daughter, you impress me," Father called out. Though his voice was loud and clear, the inflection was as if we were speaking five feet in distance rather than five hundred. "Employing the expertise of a thief to guide you through a city – and then having him arrested…."

I swallowed back the rude color heating my neck and encouraged me legs to move forward.

Father's hand swayed a sharp right, and my legs stopped striding. The ground slipped from underneath me, and it was like the dimensions of the chamber had suddenly shifted. I now stood within a short distance of the dais. The sensation made my stomach wobble.

"Father," I began, taking a quick breath to sustain myself, "I beg thy pardon. But I ask of you that he be released. I promised he would be safe should he obey me, and obey me he did."

Father rubbed with his thumb and forefinger the crop cut of his mustache and pointed beard. His bladelike nose rose as if testing my mood through the scents of my fear and guilt. "You ask that I release a thief back into the streets so that he should continue to defy me?"

"He was trying to survive. He is very poor. Perhaps if we–"

Father cut me off with a frustrated voice. "That _boy_ is a known pilfer for the Varden ranks. He steals from the Empire to help the rebels attempting to destroy our peace."

The pounding in my head started again, and I felt the confusion drown me._ You were about to let free a rebel sympathizer – an enemy!_

And then I was at Father's feet, my stomach about to capsize. His large hands took my head, and his lips formed strange words. The head ache lifted, and the twisting of my gut eased. He said, "I comfort your woes, daughter. You are now learned of the boy's sneaking ways and will not be so fooled in the future. And as you are a Keeper of Vows, I will lessen the severity of his sentence."

When his hands left my face, I sighed and nodded. "Grace be with you, Father, for I am grateful for your kindness."

Father's dark eyes considered the worry that creased my face, the stress that lessened the beauty and shine of pride. He reached out and placed his palm over the patch of my throat where my voice grew strongest. His skin was warm and familiar, but yet I wished to flinch away.

"How goes the strengthening of your voice?" he inquired.

"All is well, Father."

"I have not tested you in over a year. Do you still retain the lessons which I taught you?"

I gave a stiff dip in chin. "Aye, and it will ever remain so."

This seemed to please him, and Father leaned away from me. "Once the 'rebellion' has been sorted through, I would like to further continue with your instruction. You have immense potential power, daughter of mine, and I have a deep feeling brooding in my chest that we have yet to tap into the core of it."

I pursed my lips. "Are you not worried of the Varden?"

He tilted his head in a gesture of the negative. "They are no more than a nuisance, nay, a thorn in my side disposed with the rudimentary skill of a child."

This I trusted in him and spoke of no more. But there was a lingering issue festering upon my tongue, and my conscious would not let me be excused should I inquire of it. "Father, if I may…" I swallowed the growing wet, sticky clog in my mouth. "Is it acceptable that I visit with Murtagh? It has been many months since I have spoken with him, and I would greatly appreciate the familiar company."

"No." Father's lips seemed to lift and crooked his mustache up the right. "He is… otherwise occupied and will be so for the next month or so."

"Oh." The word was a whisper. "As you wish."

"Do not appear so sorrowful," Father said. "For, as I have deemed it, you are to be wedded when the next month is ripe and mature."

"Wedded?"

"Aye, Edrolph and I discussed it at length not two nights ago." Father smiled, though the gesture was not as glowing as it was on other persons. It was awkward to wear on his face under the black hairs and stretching the dark skin. "He is a good match and will have the ability to provide for you. And you will not have to leave so far from your mother as his estate is the nearest of the noble families."

Dread weighed upon my shoulders, and my nose scrunched and twisted. "Father, I do not wish to marry Sir Edrolph. I do not love him, and he does not love me."

Father shrugged. "Love is a fickle creature, Gwendolyn. Even if you should find a man that you fall in love with, the next decade could prove you truly hate him. I do you a favor in that I know, in time, you will come to care for Edrolph, a stronger love than any of the suitors in the Empire. No two are as well suited."

I struggled with the emotions shredding my heart and mind. There was a deep recess within me that wanted to scorn my father for presuming a husband apposite to my needs. But the woman in me calmed the fires, reminding my heart all that my father has done and that, given time and a simple chance, my life with Edrolph could be worthwhile and fulfilling.

"You may take your leave now," Father said, waving his hand towards the stretch of lanterns and their white path. "I have an engagement that calls for my attention."

I curtsied and stepped down the dais. Then the room seemed to pinch together and then snap apart, throwing me far back. My feet slid on the bright path up till the gold doors that opened to release me.

It was when I arrived at my chambers that the impact of the day collapsed upon me like that great emerald tower. But I received no peace for the moment I had entered the sitting room, Edrolph came through the door and swung me into an embrace.

"Oh, my heart! Such a blessing it is to see you, that you are safe and unharmed." He pressed a firm kiss into my hair and set me upon my feet.

There were three chairs that graced this opening room, and they surrounded an ellipse-shaped table adorned with crystal patterned embeddings. The rug beneath our feet was similar to that of Mothers in that it expanded throughout the floor to the walls and cushioned bare feet from the ills of sore pain. From the door, a black-skinned servant carried a vase of Calendula, Nasturtium, and Rhododendron flowers and set them on a dark side table pressed up against the cream colored walls.

"I was never to be harmed," I said, allowing a trickle of irritation to lace my tone. "I left on my own accord."

Edrolph cupped my cheeks and pressed our foreheads together. "Aye, and that is what most victims will say." He kissed my nose. "I promise you, that street beggar will forever rot in the dungeons for his crime."

"No!"

Edrolph stiffened, and shook his head as if he had sneezed. "Darling, control yourself. I will not tolerate your affecting me with that voice of yours when we are wed."

I ignored the jeer and pulled my head out of his gentle grip. "Caden did _nothing_ to harm me. I asked him to take me to the true essence of Urû'baen, and he did as I commanded."

Edrolph chuckled. "The true essence? Did he not relay to you the woes of the beggars and the crippled? Educate you on the impressions of the merchant system? True essence indeed, for all he cared to do was to ally you to hearts of the poor."

I frowned. His words frustrated me, and I did not like the mock underlying his words. "Is it wrong to care for the oppressed?"

Edrolph's eyes rolled. "The fates made them as such. Am I more than man to disagree with their judgments?"

"I would like to think you man enough to open your eyes."

His face fell, and the wooden shell of his irises deepened with negative emotion. "I advice you, Gwendolyn, to choose carefully your loyalties. _I_ am to be your husband, not they, and I will not tolerate being addressed to as such. Your concerns are to lie with me."

The words resonated in my mind, colliding and meshing with a memory of a lesson Lilyanna taught – the duties of a wife. Edrolph was right. And the realization made me sigh, and I leaned onto my right leg.

Edrolph touched my face, his fingers smooth and caressing. "Let not sadness befall you, mine heart, for we are to be wed as we always desired." He coaxed my jaw up and pressed an enveloping kiss to my lips. The sensation was jarring – I was not sure how to feel. There still resided in my core a sickness that bubbled to the surface whenever Edrolph was near.

"Sweet… sweet…" Edrolph murmured and pulled away.

In time, Father promised, I would care for this man in the deep recesses of my heart. I would simply have to trust that he was right.

_And yet I trusted him to treat his people right._

Disturbed, I focused instead on the sprawl of grin on Edrolph's face and channeled control to the coiling in my stomach, unwinding it and flattening it till I felt sick no more.

"Would you enjoy a delectable supper with me in _my_ houses?" Edrolph offered, moving toward the vase and lifting it with near ease. "These are yours. I thought the colors would soothe you in this transition of your life."

I ran my hand over the tops of the yellow, orange, and purple petals that – together – created a canvass that resembled the sky of the setting sun. "These are lovely, Edrolph. I shall have Evelyn later place them in my room."

Edrolph nodded once and set the vase back down. "And as for the dinner, when the sun is beginning to pink, I will have a carriage waiting to escort you to my estate. Wear your finest, darling." He brushed my cheek and chuckled to himself. Then he bowed and excused himself out the door.

I fell back into one of the three ornate chairs and pinched closed my eyes. When I was calm, I stood and smoothed out the lines in my gown. My chest tightened and gave a nagging pulse that was drawing me down low. The pain was so unfamiliar, so convoluted, I would do all I could to appease it.

_Why should his well-being matter in the least? _

I did not know how to answer. And it bothered me.

**A/N: Yeah... I know... not as long as the last one. But if I had continued strapping on scene after scene, it would have been lots of words, but boring and heck to read. **


	8. Chapter 8

Looking back, I was not at all sure how this came about – how this subject came up.

_Edrolph's index finger rimmed the circumference of his goblet as he winged his elbows onto the arms of his garden chair and the water of his eyes began bubbling. A smooth, satisfied smirk etched the lines of his cheeks. Freesia liquid swirled. _

_ With calm words, as though we were already confidants as husband and wife, he revealed: "I have been entrusted greatly. You father has allowed my abilities and strength to come to the ultimate test of loyalty." From his countenance, I knew he expected me to be impressed – and to say as much. _

_ "That is indeed a great privilege. What must you accomplish?"_

_ A quiet breeze caressed Edrolph's darkening skin then rippled across the potted purple bulbs of Rhododendron like wind chimes. "There is a recent settlement placed on the other side of the Spine – linear with Belatona. Our spies tell us they are in allegiance with the Varden; many men find heart with the rebel cause and go to their ranks rather than strengthen their homeland. They are known also to gather supplies to send to the cause."_

_ If only to distract my clenching innards, I took my wine glass and sipped with a rising brow. "Do you know why?"_

_ "As of now, no… not in its entirety. But the King has handed the orders to _me_ to go and wipe out its populace."_

_ I heard it before I realized it._

_ The goblet slipped from my grip and crashed to the patio, shattering like ice crystals. _

_ Edrolph sprung to his feet and glared at the liquid as it reached into the patio cracks with dark tentacles. "Gwendoly...?" His voice jumped an octave as he called to a servant. _

_ "Pardon," I said, though the word fell flat to my ears. "I… I do not mean to be so clumsy."_

_ Edrolph waved off the apology and began listing terse orders to the pallid boy who scurried out from inside the house with a red cloth. My husband-to-be shook his head and grunted, pressing his palm onto his head. "Perhaps I should have said that more gently to you."_

"You left me here to rot." Caden struggled against the metallic chains that bound him to the gray brick wall. "This is why I never consented to trust the nobility or the royal house." And he spat the statement like one cursed a slave.

In the stuffy dungeon tower, Caden resided in the middle section. It had taken the persuasion of the posted guards to find him and a lie to my mother of my whereabouts. But my conscious had refused to heal should I see the poor young man.

His cell was the size of his home, perhaps smaller. There was a wooden, cracked bench along the back wall, a severed splinter running along its center. The bricks in the walls were puffy and gave the room a feeling of constant enclosure. On the ground, dust collected and buried debris that resembled hay. Underneath the bench was a bucket split like a chapped lip.

I stood close to the door, frowning. His words sparked pride, and I bristled. "None would quarrel with me should I deem it necessary to cut your tongue."

Caden grunted. "Would'st the highness do me the pleasure of trying?"

My teeth clamped together, and I was tempted to leave. But the painful tingling still lingered in my body – tears still bunched like famished children in the back of my eyes.

"I didn't have to come here."

"Then why did you?" Caden's head and hands rolled with skepticism.

It bothered me I didn't know.

Instead, I said, "I tried to help you."

Caden held out his bound wrists, scuffed and raw and pink-red.

"If you weren't an agent for the Varden, I could have negotiated your release. But it would be foolhardy to have you roaming free and able to support the rebel cause." I folded my arms and gave him a pointed look.

He blinked. Then shrugged. But there came no words of defense.

I dragged in a careful breath, allowing the air to relax the tense clenching of the muscles.

"You appear upset, your highness, and not due to your visit with me." Caden put up his feet on the wooden shelf and tilted his head into the wall. "My mother used to tell me when she felt hurt or deprived, she would tell a lonely beggar. Because the person had no previous opinion upon the matter, they seemed to have the gift of wiping her worries away."

I had to blink and pinch the bridge of my nose to keep from trickling wet rivers. "It is none of your concern." My throat tightened and burned.

"No, but you might find clarity in telling a stranger."

The cell grew quiet as we stared at each other. Caden's eyes seemed to darken in their intensity, yet his face remained unmoved – as if he were wearing a mask of sorts. Acting. Encouraging me to speak.

Swallowing, I admitted, "I feel… confused…."

_After the wine was washed from the patio, and we were alone once more, Edrolph moved his chair beside mine and gripped my hand. I had trouble looking at him after his revelation, choosing rather to stare at the half-eaten plate of tender meat and vegetable greens. The circular table had been decorated with a white cloth, though it was now marred on one side where the wine splatter jumped. _

_ "You mean to say my father asked you to eradicate citizens?" I bit the inside of my cheek. _

_ Edrolph interlaced our fingers, his skin warm against the cool night. "Aye. It is a necessary duty to perform." _

_ "Necessary?" _

_ It wasn't until Edrolph's eyebrows arched high and wide that I noticed the horrified tilt in my voice, and it made us both shudder involuntarily. _

_ "Aye. They are of the rebellion, my heart." His other hand swooped to cup on my cheek. "I think only of our future – our relationship, our children. Would you so have it that our little ones embrace a war-infested land?"_

_ I shook my head. "Nay, I wish for them the best." But for any child – not just my own. Again, my mind drifted to Kharisa. _

_ "And so through this seemingly horrendous act, I protect them." Edrolph sighed and removed his hand. _

_ I found it impossible to wrap my head around his words, his justification. Fighting back fear of retribution, I argued, "What of their children – the settlement's? What of their women and men who be as you and I?"_

_ Edrolph frowned. "They are not the same, Gwendolyn. The gods have blessed us with prosperity; they are giving us the power and the right to strike and destroy these traitors."_

_ Traitors. Any who associated with the Varden were betrayers of their race. And traitors were punishable by death. _

_ Every nerve in my body twitched and writhed. _

A wet shine touched Caden's eyes, but he blinked it away and sat straight, throwing his legs to the ground. He avoided glancing at me as he said, "There is no way to prevent this?"

"No," and the word was as a dead leaf drifting to the forest floor.

Caden exhaled – sad and resigned.

My fingers grasped the bridge of my nose once more. "The answer eludes me. I know not what to believe anymore."

He looked up. "Believe me."

I shook my head. "I cannot. You lied."

"And has no one else?" Caden said with a crown of bitterness.

It made me weep – a quiet weeping. Caden stiffened, and his eyes grew wide with a twinge of fear.

"I do not know….." I wiped my cheeks and dried my hands on my gown. Sucking in a stuttering breath, I added, "It has increasingly begun to seem so."

Caden said nothing, though whether to wait as I calmed or to soothe his own thoughts I knew not. Eventually, however, the minimum tears I shed proved enough to keep at bay the rest of my raging emotions.

"What will you do?" Caden asked when I no longer breathed in uneven spurts.

The inquiry irked me but did not elicit more water from my eyes. "I have not cared to think of a further action."

"Can you not…" Caden's hands shook and twisted as he attempted to pull together his words. "Is there no way for you to convince this… Edrolph… to stay his assault? Can you not convince him to spare them?"

I swallowed and fought back the instinct to rub my neck. I _could_ convince him – my voice was potent and capable. But there was a fear in me, a fear of consequence.

_"Edrolph, you shan't go through with this." The column of my throat warmed as I leaned towards him. _

_ Edrolph made a noise that neared a growl. "Your voice…." The chair grated back with a scratchy screech as he stood. _

_ "It is murder," I said, though the sound of it was lower than a whisper. _

_ He reached down, snatched my shoulder, and jerked me to my feet. His tone narrowed like his eyes. "I will warn you only once more, my dear. Use not your voice to persuade me, whether from duty or for reasons of other."_

_ "Edrolph…." The vice-like grip on my shoulder yelped. _

_ He released me with a slight jerk. "Once you realize and remember that _I_ am the husband and _you_ are the wife… you will feel no more pain. It is as it should be."Edrolph sighed, and he began brushing the sore spot he created. Then he pressed a light kiss to it. To my neck. To my mouth. "Our life together shall be most wonderful…."_

_ I knew I should believe it, but the notion felt raw as it aggravated my heart. _

Caden snickered. "How _sweet_ of him."

The acidic undertone of his voice pricked me, but my brain was too focused on lifting my heavy eyelids. I wanted to lean against the wall or sink to my knees. But… the grime…. I simply could not.

"The Varden needs to know about this," he murmured.

Ugh. My world was spinning like wool, yet it was tangling and snagging into knots. "I… it is impossible." I shook my head, scrunching my nose. "The gods have deemed it so. There is no preventing it."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" Caden's hands balled into fists, and he shot them under his armpits. "Is that the solution to ease your guilt?"

My chest inflamed, the heat stretching like a shadow up the length of my throat and over to my temples. "How _dare_ you! How dare you to judge me of my actions when you yourself are so weak. I did not resign myself to thievery and flaunting of the law. You are the one in chains, not I."

His jaw squared. "I am not the one who believes they have the right to murder and plunder innocent villagers."

"Nor am I."

"Yet you toss it aside as if you as well are bound with chains." He held out his wrists and shook the metal.

I clamped my hands over my head. It rung – reverberated like a siren call. "Nay, for I am not trapped within this cell." As if to solidify my point, I pushed open the door and made the step to leave. But I turned back a moment, leveling with the perturbed Caden as I hissed, "Breathe one word of what I have disclosed, and you _will_ be executed."

In the dim, winding corridor, I stared at my hands and imaged dull metal clamped about the pallid skin. _It cannot be_, I decided.

Looking back, I was at a loss as to how that came about.

I avoided the dungeon tower for the following week. Even if it had so pleased me to visit with Caden, Mother made it near impossible to find a moment's peace to myself. With the engagement announced to the Empire, I became overwhelmed with the organization and planning, the decisions and the verdicts to be made. The castle was abuzz with hearty congratulations and sappy sweet smiles.

In the gardens, I sat on the wrought metal bench, waiting for the arrival of the Empire's finest florist. The sun winked from the azure sky, liberated from the confines of puffy clouds. Mother had wandered to obtain a kitchen servant for she was famished, and she trusted me to select the most appropriate canvas colors.

A slim woman carted a wooden, transportable serving tray to where I sat. On the tray surface were placed ten clay pots, in which flourished ten varying flower types. When I pointed to the Rhododendron, she said, "You choose for you marriage ceremony, yes?"

"Aye, for the dress and for the decoration."

Her eyes flickered to the purple bulbs I smiled at. "Perhaps a more suitable selection?"

"More suitable?" Were there pieces of nature too low for the princess's touch or approval? "They are lovely flowers. Explain where the quandary lies."

The woman tucked a strand of hair up into her bun. "The Rhododendron is a rare choice for such an occasion. Its symbolism is that of wariness, to beware. Perhaps your highness would prefer the snap dragon, a symbol of graciousness and strength."

I frowned at the purple bulb and glared at the vibrant pink petals the woman offered to me. "Tis my wedding, and I decide the Rhododendron." Then I spotted a clay pot with Nasturtium. The yellow-orange hue brought to mind the rising of the morning sun. Victory in my woes. "This, too, I require. Surely, you have no objection?"

The florist shook her head as she brought up the Nasturtium beside the Rhododendron. "May I suggest, however, this soft pink, the Amaryllis?" Her hands curved about the pottery of an open flower. "It was cultivated in the deep south of Surda, the only climate of which it is known to grow, and would add great light as well to your beauty."

The day after, Mother invited a seamstress to design and create a wedding gown of delicate, blush pink. The color, according to both women, added an elegance and grace that lifted the gold of my eyes and gave my black hair a softer, liquid glow.

Mother handled the most extraneous details of each process, claiming it to be her right and duty as a mother to 'blaze the forest trial'. And I allowed her the reigns. My heart simply was not there. Empty. Floating in nonsense.

A part of me wished to sneak about and find Murtagh. He had the rogue, roughish skill of bringing me out of the aloof cloud I lived upon. However, Father would disapprove. Evelyn, too, was a soul I turned to for true conversation, but the girl treaded on tender ground, still upset from her blunder not too long ago, and offered nothing save for what was expected of her.

"Chin up, darling," Mother's fingers pushed on the underside of my jaw, raising a deep, royal purple cloth to my face. "Gwendolyn, where is your smile?"

I attempted to lift the edges of my lips.

Mother scowled in the corner of my eye. "Come now, are you nervous?"

"Perhaps."

"Why would that be? You love Edrolph, do you not?" Mother checked a dark blue beside the purple and frowned at it.

I stood on a low-raising platform, bare legged with my torso covered in a cream-colored corset. The room we were in was specially designed, walled completely with mirror that reflected back my grimace and blank eyes.

My shoulders sagged. "I do not know. What does love feel like?"

"_When you are in love with your beaux," Lilyanna said in reply to a simple, innocent question, "you will want to marry him and serve your life to fulfill he needs."_

"Love is fickle; it can lead to the strangest or the most normal of pairings." Mother eyed the seamstress as she motioned for me to stretch out my arms to the sides.

"What are Edrolph and I?"

_Strange_.

Mother shrugged. "I see you two as a sweet happy ending that will model the hopes and dreams of all little girls in the Empire."

_Strange,_ I repeated in my head.

"Father said to me love will come in time."

The seamstress moved around my waist, touching the strings and holes of the corset material. She paused on my left side and tugged. I gasped at the sharp clinch that pained my midriff. Mother and the seamstress shared an even look, and the woman disappeared through a door to the left.

"Well, I'm sure he meant to soothe your nerves. You are a stubborn child, my dear."

Our eyes met in the mirror, topaz and sweet pea. "What of you and Father? Are you not in love?"

Mother's crow's feet twitched as if a flinch. "No." The dead tone ended the tangent.

The seamstress returned, a sample gown similar to my appropriated design weighing in her arms like a new babe. "Your highness, would it so please you, I will show you a similar preview, if you will, of the final product."

Mother clapped her palms together. "Glorious!"

Not so glorious.

With the passage of time, hot spots began to fester in my heart. _I can do nothing to help him further,_ I would argue to myself. _He insulted me; he more than likely hates me._ And yet, I could not burn Caden from my mind. He resided there, staring me down with eyes that mimicked forests. There was depth buried inside him, and I feared what darkness cultivated in his essence.

I managed a week.

In the infant morning hours, Evelyn dressed me in the gray cloak and bound my hair with a single, thick braid. Mother had been consistent the past few days, so I deduced I had two or so hours before she would come to my chambers.

"If Mother arrives before I, do not reveal where I shall be," I said to Evelyn at the corridor door.

Evelyn nodded, though there was a slight droop in her sweet eyes.

"Aye, Princess."

"Grace be with you." And out the door I was.

The guards, as last time, posed little issue. Though they protested my arrival (none were to enter but my father and those he authorized), I was… persuasive in my case, and they allowed me passage. Same, too, were the guards posted within the tower, and, for the ones stationed beside Caden's door, I sent them some feet away so as to give me privacy.

Caden lay in an awkward, scrunched position on the bench. His cheek smashed against the brick wall, and his legs were too long to stretch out. In his sleep, his lips murmured, though there was no definite sound coming from them.

I stepped twice to reach him in the small space and handled his shoulder. It was firm and large, and I noticed how different a feel there was to it than Edrolph's. Warmth hugged him and intensified the musty, sour smell that accompanied the cell.

"Caden, I need you to wake up." I shook his arm.

His body shuddered at my colder touch and turned his red cheek away.

I shook him again. "Caden, you daft, wake up."

Caden jolted upright, his hand fast coming to grip my forearm. His fingers squeezed and shoved me down, where his other hand came up and clamped around my neck.

"Who – _oh_!" Caden's hands fell off as if he'd been shocked. He held them up and gnawed his bottom lip, watching with careful eyes as I straightened my back and touched the spots where he'd grabbed me. "Princess, my apologizes! It was not meant for you….?"

I rubbed a hand over my face and sighed. "Then _who_ do you wait for?"

Caden became suspicious again, eyebrows pulling and mouth pressing into a firm, white line. Finally, he decided, "The guards."

Panic stabbed me. "Was that an attempt to _escape_?"

He shook his head, and relief flooded me. "If that had been my intention, I would not have released you. No, the guards have been rough and spiting. I meant only to get back at them, scare them."

I had the urge to growl. _When will the waters clear?_

While I mulled over the complications of life, Caden stretched out his legs and popped the joints in his arms and neck. He grimaced and stroked the back of his neck. Then he snorted a sharp exhale. "I should not feel this idiotic, but I do." His jaw clenched. "I must beg your pardon, your highness… for my behavior our last meeting. It was inappropriate for me to speak as such to a lady, most especially a lady of your standing, and my mother would have been quite wroth with me indeed."

I blinked back the craggy, stiff feeling in my eyelids as they fluttered. In an instant, my mouth twisted into a strange, awkward frown. "It…," I sighed, remembering his harsh words. "… I accept… and thank you…."

Quick as a whip, Caden looked up at me. Surprise colored his green rims. "Thank me? For what have I graced thee with?"

My arms crawled over my chest into a tense fold. "I thank you for obeying me, for showing me the outside before I am confined behind thicker walls."

As I spoke, Caden began to frown, but when I finished the statement, an unfamiliar emotion passed his face. It was like he felt… compassion. And then it was gone, replaced with sorrow and resignation.

"I may regret the inquiry but…," He squared his shoulders, "Do you know of what they will do with me? Am I a prisoner for life? Or…." He swallowed back dark thoughts.

"Nay, for I petitioned with my father, and he was gracious enough to grant you a cut in your sentence."

Caden's face lifted, if only sparsely. But it fell once more after a short moment, and he said, "What of my sister and Ayame? They cannot survive on their own. We were straggling as it was but… now?" He head dropped into his open palms.

The tiny cell was permeated with our inner woes. Caden and his inability to support his family. Me and my impending marriage to a man I did not know how I felt for….

_"You have to get away from here."_

"_Leave? Where on Alagaësia would I go?" _

_ His eyes pierced me. "You've heard the rumors about the Dragon Rider, yes? Find him. He can help you. He's the only one that will."_

_ "You're not making any sense, Murtagh. Just tell me."_

_ He growled. "Just escape."_

But I could not escape. I had naught another home to run to, no one other to take care of me or to lead me there.

Yet he was so insistent on my leaving. Had he seen this future matrimony? Did he not agree? If so, why had he no simply warned me of Edrolph?

My head hurt trying to wrap itself about the information. Escape. Do not escape. Empty. Full of a great future. The good poor. The ungrateful poor. No. Fine. Lines.

Before I realized it, my feet had me turning to the single door and grasping the knob. It was not till I felt the cool metal cupped in my hand that the present swirled about me.

"Wait," Caden said.

My fingers did not lessen their hold, but I paused.

Caden gulped back any nerves that ailed him and exhaled. "Would you kindly do me a favor? Please… watch for them – Kharisa and Ayame. Tell me how they fare, if they do well or are plagued by my absence."

"You may not like the answer."

His response was quieter than his sigh. "I know."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Not sure what I have to say about this chapter really. I could slash and burn myself all I want, but sometimes my eyes are biased, so I'll cross my fingers. Also, here ends (hopefully) the annoying, confusing mental battle of Gwen. **

The halls were still that night. Only the meager falls of my feet reverberated as little, controlled claps. As the walk lengthened, the long, gray walls seemed to arch over head – as if ready to engulf me.

_Child, your father is not pleased with you._

I stopped moving. A rancid itch ripped down my spine. Though Shruikan was most certainly not in the corridor, his voice was as clear as if his snout had been placed right beside me. _It was not my intention…?_ I winced at the high lift in my head as I tried to calm my heart.

_He is displeased with your accumulated visits with the prisoner Caden. You should be preparing for your wedding, the transition it entails. Worry not over the poor thief._

_ But he is – _

_ No, he is not. Nor will he ever be. He has more interest in surviving than he has becoming your friend, and you will only find more heartache through him. Leave him be, and your father shall take care of him. _

I sighed. _Aye, Shruikan. You give me wise council._

_Still your heart, child, and go to your rooms. _

_Aye._ But he had already left my mind.

My heart thumped pangs that echoed like ripples in a pond. It wrestled with the new command, refusing to spit out Caden. I was too tired to fight it, however, but I stuffed the boy so far into my mind I'd have trouble thinking of him even if it was what I wished.

When my chamber door came in sight, I stuttered for my step. Edrolph was emerging from within and had noticed me in the darkness. His smile was wide, if not smug and victorious. It made me wonder if he had come to tell me the glories of torching an innocent village.

"Gwendolyn, come to my arms," he said with exasperation, standing with open arms as if expecting me to jump into them. Edrolph frowned when I held the walking pace.

"It is late, dear, and I must sleep." My voice was flat, and the lack of visible emotion seemed to encourage him.

Edrolph encaged me within his embrace. He chuckled into my ear – the kind of laugh that made the concave of my stomach run hollow. "Sleep we will, my darling."

I squirmed in his grasp. "Do not tease me, Edrolph. We are not yet wedded, and it would be–"

"Perfectly appropriate." Edrolph shrugged. "None else shall have you. It is more a sin to waste you, a mocking gesture to the gods who gave you to me."

"I was given to no one," I nearly growled.

Edrolph rolled his eyes, his chest rumbling with more laughter still. "Perhaps that is why I love you so – you believe indefinitely you are independent of me when, in truth, you need my loving guidance."

"I think not."

His arms constricted, and he began dragging us towards my rooms. My mind reeled in momentary panic. Through all the confusion of the past week, I knew with solid clarity I did not want _this_.

_I do not love him; he cannot have me as such; but how do I get him to leave?_

Edrolph managed with open the door and keep a firm grip on my torso. The moment the door swung closed with a _click_, his mouth descended upon mine and bit it so that I whimpered in surprise and pain.

He growled when I attempted to pull away, and his teeth clenched. They forced mine up and open. Edrolph's fingers pinched the skin on my back, and it felt like he was trying to rip the fabric apart. His legs pushed us deeper into the room until my body was slammed onto the flat surface of the wall.

"_Feel_ me, Gwendolyn, as a good wife should."

His hands had moved to mine, attempting to force them to comply with his wants. When my fingers refused to hold any shape in his hair, he bit my jaw and bashed my head into the wall.

"I am… not your wife." Only with my consent did my hands move, and they moved to push Edrolph away from me.

Edrolph gripped my throat and held it to the wall. His eyes slit mine as if he could deteriorate my will with a single, harsh look. "You were taught the same as I. A wife is to carter to her husband all his needs."

"And what of the needs of the wife?"

"They are fulfilled in her duty to her husband." Edrolph kissed my mouth with the force of a boulder crashing into a house made of straw.

His growling increased with each attempt of mine to shove him off, but never did he become so frustrated he gave up on his assault.

Something akin to blood swallowed down my throat. At first, I snapped my teeth at his mouth when he tried to invade mine. But it had the opposite affect I prayed for and seemed only to accelerate his movements. We were slipping off the wall now, and his arms were moving as if to catch me in a cradle. Time slimmed into a thin hair.

I gasped. "_Get off!_"

Hot energy rolled from my breath, and Edrolph jerked back. His foot caught on the rug, tripping him into the back of a chair. The chair toppled onto the ground, crashing with a heavy thud onto the tea table.

I snapped to look at Evelyn's still bedroom door, waiting for it to burst wide.

Thunder grumbled in Edrolph's chest as he stood and said, "I have asked of you: never employ the use of your voice against me." His hand shot out and struck the wall beside my head; his other snatched my chin and set it so the glacier spikes in his eyes gouged through my soul.

I hissed. "_Edrolph, stand back!_"

He sneered as he body complied, though he stretched his arms to keep his hold on me.

I slapped away his limbs and rolled away from the dark walls. "Do _not_ come near," I said when he stepped towards me.

"Gwendolyn… this is ridiculous…." Edrolph folded his arms and straightened his stance to resemble that of a military captain. "We are to be wedded. I am to be taking care of you till you are old and gray. Should not I then receive your flower?"

"What of what _I_ want? My needs?"

Edrolph groaned and clutched his temple – now reddening from where it hit the wood of the chair in his fall. "It is amazing that I deal with you at all." He bit his tongue.

"_Leave_."

"Think on it, my heart," Edrolph said as his feet stretched to the exit. "We give of ourselves to the other that which will never be shared again."

"When we are proper and wedded." But the phrase was a snarl on my lips. Fire scorched the inner corner of my eyes.

Just as he was to leave, Edrolph added, "Are you not curious to know that whereabouts of your dearest Evelyn?"

"_Stop._"

Edrolph poked his head into the room. His mouth was twisted half up and down as regarded the heat sweltering my skin like a boil. "She has been reassigned."

"Edrolph? Dear gracious no!" He – he – he…?

He shook his head. "_I _did nothing. But your Mother informed me that with your newfound womanhood, you were in need of an older lady-in-waiting, one with more… experience."

"_Tell_ me where she is, Edrolph, or I swear I'll cry off!"

Edrolph grimaced. "I did not inquire, nor did your mother see it fit to enlighten me. However…." The frown lifted, and his voice smoothed over. "Perchance we were to… be together in the night…. I would do my upmost to return the girl into your care."

"No."

"From what I have observed, Evelyn is very dear to you. She would be allowed to remain your lady-in-waiting until death – perhaps have the privilege of nursing and governing our children." Despite Edrolph frozen out the door with my command, the ghost of his touch tickled me.

"_Leave_."

There were no sounds other than the blanket of sweet moonlight sighs to lull me to sleep that night. I rubbed my itchy, fat, sour cheeks over the plump of my pillow and gave grace to the gods who allowed me to be alone tonight. But as my rash breathing calmed till it matched the hum outside, black, beady creatures gnawed at the edge of my conscious – even until I drifted into a bizarre world where my mind seemed under an invading pressure…

_ I stood on an open balcony. The railing had been cut away, and, in the distance, an arm of my home arched as if to embrace the cliff side. Behind me, the glass doors pictured the insides of a gold and royal purple bedroom and reflected the stars that twinkled on the dark blue canvas of the sky across their wide panels. I could smell petunias, and a pot of the vivid pink and royal purple flower shimmered into reality on one side of me. _

_A black arrow, oozing shadowy slime and glaring with bright, crimson eyes, snapped through the air and smashed into the pot. _

_I jumped back, tripping on the hem on my dress._

_The balcony slab disappeared._

_Nothing. I fell into nothing. _

_A voice rang through the descent, drumming in my ears and drowning out the sounds of my own thoughts. "Escape. You must escape," it said. _

"_I know where not to go," I heard myself say. _

_A white floor beaconed as I fell, and I braced my head for impact. _

_The voice muttered a sharp word, and I flipped upright abruptly in the air. The white floor glittered, and then an image formed – hot, rolling plains, dirt holes belching black smoke, and a river flowing in the distance. _

"_South. Go south."_

"_I cannot!" _

_The voice growled, and I was dropped onto the image platform. _

_My mind shifted. The emptiness clapped together and became the poor district of Urû'baen – the lame poor that slept in the darkness, the stone buildings, the cracked windows… the alley with the child who had seemed so happy despite her circumstances. _

_Kharisa lay asleep on Ayame's lap, the edges of her eyes red and irritated. Her mouth trembled, and her lungs hiccupped air. The old woman brushed through the child's lengthy chestnut hairs, some of which bent in crooked tangles. _

_Behind me, a hand reached out and grasped my arm. I spun around only to find Caden staring with a blank, lost look at his family. He wore the black thief costume as when we first met, but his mask was clutched in his other hand as if he could not bear to don it. Then his eyes turned to me, and they were soft. _

_Caden blew away, replaced by half an image of Murtagh. It was his lips that moved as the voice continued, "Act now, and think of it later. Leave before you become subjected to the same tortures as I – for the King plans to fully indenture you to his servitude when you are separated from your mother – and escape!"_

_Murtagh grimaced at first, and then cried out in pain. The dream began shaking and melting into a blob of empty nothing. _

_He faded with one last shout of agony._

"Ah!"

Thick, ugly cords of trepidation stuffed up into my heart. Black beads pulsed like smooching lips in my vision. I curled my fingers and hugged myself under the comfort of my bed. _I have lost myself…._ And the realization jarred me – threw my mind into a vat of quicksand.

I groaned into my pillow and folded upright. Sitting in the mass of fluffy blankets, I stared at my wrists. I imaged gleaming sliver locked about the fair skin, chaffing it until it blistered and peeled.

"Hardly," I muttered under my breath. My neck conjured the sensation of rope shifting and tightening about it. But I shook off the sensation before it could lynch.

Go – don't go. Stay – don't stay. Misery outside. Misery within.

I supposed the true question was: what consequence could I live with?

There was little to gain in lying back in the covers and retrieving more nightmares from the vault in my mind, though I attempted to obtain what little more sleep I could. But when the sun began to rise, I stretched my cramped limbs and set foot on the cold floor. The ice touch to my toes singed up into my brain, and I shivered in response.

My initial, automatic movement was to ring for the presence of Evelyn. But, remembering Edrolph's rude words, I clenched my fists and cried out in frustration.

I thanked the gods above for the small blessing of Mother's near proximity within the vast castle. I donned on the gray cloak to conceal my nightgown, turning up my nose to the lingering horse stench.

Down the corridor to my left, turn once at the end, up three doors…. All through the stirring morning. Given the prestige of this Hall, it did not surprise me to find none lurking about so early. The rising servants would be on the lower floors, preparing breakfast and tending chores.

Mother's lady-in-waiting was pouring steeping tea into a glistening white, tea cup when I slipped through the chamber doors. She was a tall woman of darker complexion with round, bulging eyes the color of autumn. Her hands were perhaps a touch too plump to be considered feminine but were strong and capable of most any labor my mother required of her.

"Good morning, Talia."

The woman looked up from the tea and offered a sweet smile. "Good mornin' to ye; the mistress, she's a'justin' her eyes to the cool sun and feeling her face alrigh'."

I offered a curt nod and crossed the soft rug to the entrance of my mother's bedroom. Talia looked on with a hint of hesitation hovering in her eyes, but she remained flat lipped, revealing nothing of her thoughts as I entered through the door.

Though larger than mine, the room offered a similar taste as my own. The walls were velvet red with a touch of antiquity to the shade. Mother's vanity – an ellipse, ornate mirror, white desk, and side drawers – was placed below the square window where the lightening streaks of sky streamed in. The four poster bed, fluffy and puffy as a cream pastry, sat against the inward wall .

Mother was propped up against her head board, covering her eyes with a slit of dark purple fabric. Moaning as she rolled her head, she removed the fabric and blinked in rapid spurts. She took long, relieving breaths that heaved her chest inches forward and inches back.

"I wish to speak with you, Mother."

She jumped, startled, and cleared her throat. "Why at such an hour? Your mother dear is not as clear minded as she'd like to be in the early mornings." Mother then sighed. "Oh, Edrolph and you will be quite the married pair – always awake before the crack of dawn."

I moved to the side of her bed, picking up her padded flat wear from the floor and offering them to her. "Edrolph was here?"

Mother rolled her shoulders and rubbed her bare forearms. "He called on me once in the morning a week or so ago, and I have no recollection of the meat of the visit."

I frowned at the implied warning. Shaking it off, I said, "Regardless, 'tis not why I seek your attendance. Mother… Edrolph revealed unto me you had had Evelyn reassigned from me. Where is she?"

Mother waved it off. "I left the poor girl to the young daughter of Jezuri. She became rather skittish and frantic; I worried for her health. And she is not of proper age to wait on you any longer. You will be married, and there are certain subjects of which you cannot confide in her with."

I suppressed the urge to shake the woman dressed in a feather white nightgown. _She is with a kind family,_ I told myself. _And their girl of ten and three years will be most delighted by Evelyn's skill._

Mother was solid upon her decision and no amount of pleading would return Evelyn to me. I nearly followed the notion to find Edrolph and offer myself to him. But I tossed the thought aside with a cruel shudder.

"Realize, my dear, that you are in a state of change. Your life is to bloom within a different environment. In becoming a wife, you become a true woman, a true lady. 'Tis the greatest of all truths akin to us."

My teeth gnawed on my lip. "Mother… before you tied your hand to Father's, did he ever attempt to… deflower you?"

Her nose responded with a quick, agitated wrinkle that she was quick to smooth out. Her eyebrows twitched as if to knit together, but Mother held them firm and expressionless. "Why would you ask such an inquiry?"

I swallowed. "Edrolph does not believe it is necessary to stay our… intimacies until mid month when we are wed."

Mother rubbed her white eyes in a circular motion. Slipping on her flats, she slid off the rose red comforter and walked over to her vanity. Still she did not respond as she glowered at the image in the mirror.

I watched the motions of my Mother, a married woman, and asked myself if she was… content. Never had it occurred to me the routines she slaved through to be the Queenly figure of a majestic King. Seeing her as she woke, I noted the bright buttery lashes that framed plain eyelids I was accustomed to distinguishing as shadowy black and a variety of gentle colors. My own face felt airy and cool without the plaster of rouge.

Mother spoke – a reminiscent, almost sullen tone. "I was once as bewildered as you, my dear. Once… I asserted my rights as a human being." Her hand smudged blush cream up and out on her cheeks. Then she stopped and exhaled, her head dipping forward. "I nearly lost you for it, Gwendolyn. And I could never live with myself should I have lost you."

"Mother…." I hurried to her side and wrapped my arms about her shoulders. She leaned against my head a moment before smelling the cloak and snickering.

"Remove that… that article off your back, darling. It smells horrendous." Mother flapped her hands at me, and I quickly removed it off me.

Brushing out the folds in my nightgown, I said, "Forgive me, Mother, but I have not a child to lose should I hold strong. Could I not simply cry off and remain as I am?"

"No." Mother turned back to her mirror to complete the morning ritual. As she massaged sweet-smelling oil over her arms and neck, she expanded her meaning. "You must marry at some time, and Edrolph will take care of you, Gwendolyn. I refuse to allow my daughter to fall into spinsterhood."

"But what if I should love another?"

Mother made such a face at me; it was nearly a full glare. "Why must you insist on love? Life is created from more than just passion and emotion. If you truly are so worried as to whether you will love Edrolph, I suggest you adhere to his every wish – for that is the only way to keep him content and by your side."

I flinched away from the bitter, sharp voice.

The vanity chair screeched as Mother sprang to her feet and grasped my shoulders. "I tell you this for I care for you, dearest. One man many once said you must lose yourself in order to find yourself. Perhaps you must give what you can to your husband-to-be if you are to find why you seem so dreadfully discontent."

"Is that where you found peace?"

It was like a verbal blow to the face of my mother. The versatile, lively Queen Verdandi crumpled inward, and it seemed to take the effort of lifting a boulder for her to look me in the eye and respond, "I found myself through loving you."

Mother claimed to be fraught with the fever and called for Talia to bring in her tea. She asked that I no more inquire the nature of married life to her, that my novel lady-in-waiting should be where I go to. Though we both understood that it was her duty as a mother figure to teach me womanhood, I did not argue her request and left to dress into my day gown.

When I arrived into my chambers, a young woman three or so years older than I had left open the door to my bedroom and was currently placing out a set outfit over the spread of my bed. Her chestnut hair rounded up to the crown of her head in a secure bun that bobbed slightly with her lithe movements. The back of her neck showed skin as pale as my own, and her slender body was adorned with a dirtied white and homey blue dress.

"Pardon?" I called to her.

The woman wheeled to me and bit her red bottom lip. She had a baby's soft face, plump in the cheeks and nose and supple in the mouth. Wide, pearly eyes fluttered, and tender hands grasped her heart. In the streaks of sun that hit her shaking body, I noted the subtle remains of shadow that glimmered like rouge around her eyes.

"Princess…." The woman fell to her knees and bowed her head, seeming to shrink inward as if bracing herself. "Forgive me, but I thought to air out your armoire and smooth the wrinkles in your gowns."

"Rise and tell me your name."

She complied, though her head remained bowed. "I am Lithia, DaughterofYorie. It is an honor, oh Princess, to wait upon you your every waking breath."

I held within a sad sigh. "Please, continue as you will."

Lithia lifted her head, mouth creased in an uncertain frown. "May I assist with your morning dress? Forgive me, but I could not help notice you still wear your nightgown."

I looked down and frowned. So lost had I been within my thoughts, I had forgotten to retrieve my cloak from Mother's floor.

"Aye, you may."

As Lithia prepared me for the day, her loose sleeves would slip up and down her arm. I was not confident, but it was possible her skin wore purple bruises that matched the shade hovering about her eyes. And if her neck touched the light just right, there appeared to be similar discoloring there as well. But they were faded, and it was difficult to determine for sure.

Garbed in a rich, crimson red, I found myself held by my reflection in the vanity mirror. By the standard of Alagaësia, this woman was a succulent beauty, bright eyed and rosy in the cheeks.

_Am I going to give this away?_

No.

Nothing felt right. I should be gleeful to be tied to a handsome, wealthy man. I should accept that there is to be some sorrowful people in this world – whether the gods predestined them to be as such or not.

But… my heart bled. It mourned.

It mourned the death of _me_.

Lithia grimaced from behind as my lovely face crimped and narrowed. "Princess, are you well?"

But I ignored her.

_I will, then, Mother. _If to find myself I must first become lost, then I knew no better way than losing my identity.

_You would die in the world if you ran away. You. Would. Not. Last, _my mind argued.

Caden. He would help. He knew how to survive.

My heart heaved its weight and flipped. In the mirror, I saw my lips curve into a smile. No, I did not have to lose myself to Edrolph – or, rather, anyone. Now I knew… I could find myself.

I could find freedom.

**A/N: Please be gentle if it is that bad…. **

**I am in need of a beta reader so that I'm not so iffy again and you guys all get better quality chapters **

**Oh, and constructive reviews help me push through a bad attitude :-)**


	10. Chapter 10

Lithia shrunk the wider my grin grew. "Mi'lady…?"

The tremor in her voice jolted me from my revelation. Smirk deflated, I faced her and reached out to pat her shoulder. She flinched at the touch.

"Why are you so skittish, Lithia? I have never harmed any of those who served me. And you have labored well." I moved to hold the curves of her shoulders, but she stepped back, giving an apologetic smile.

"Forgive me, Princess, I shall do well to act more appropriately," Lithia said. "Your Highness should not worry over the livelihood of those who are below her." She sunk to her knees as if in prayer.

I frowned. Somehow, her words pricked my nerves like an instrument string – but the melody was coarse and sharp. Though the woman bowed as I was accustomed to seeing, the environment clashed too greatly. Never had I brought Evelyn to her knees in the midst of my own chambers. She curtsied far more often.

_What does it matter? I resolve to leave; she will puzzle me no more._

Aloud, I said, "Fear me not, Lithia. Continue as you will, but as for me, I have an engagement I must attend to. We shall meet again in the evening."

Lithia gaped at me as I left the rooms, remaining on her knees. Meeting her brought to mind a dusty issue that had no plagued me for some months. It reminded me of the servant boy who had been beaten to death by his master when his meal had not properly warmed.

_She must have been bruised and broken._

Abusive treatment was tolerated among the nobles due to stuffy pride and elevated esteems. Mother and I never practiced it, and perhaps that was more because our servants were the most disciplined. But regardless, I found the abuse distasteful.

The spiral tower which held Caden presented an issue: if I were to take Caden with me, how should he escape his imprisonment? It was the only true enigma, for we had snuck from the castle grounds once before.

I touched the column of my neck, feeling the tight soreness from using my voice the night before with so much vigil and strength. Swallowing, I winced at the brief pinch of pain it produced. It would take much more energy to command every guard in that tower to complete silence.

Peering up the side of the tower's gray, dark length, I decided Caden was too high for him to jump, and it would take too much time for him to scale down.

As I had the past times I visited, I convinced the guards my father gave me entrance to the dungeon and to gain me access to a particular prisoner. Within the spiral edifice, I walked the stairs to the stomach of the dungeon, mid point, where Caden's door resided.

_Caden, you daft._

He slept crunched on the bench.

My cheeks went hot. Caden had forgone his scratchy shirt, and his chest stared at me with stiff, hard, muscular plains – a chest obtained from a life of hard work.

Caden's mouth was slack… relaxed. One hand fell over the side of his bare torso, dangling empty in the air. His other fell behind his bent knee. He breathed quiet air as if he were dreaming something pleasant.

Suddenly, I realized another important concern I had flown by in my haste to plan. Caden could very well refuse to accompany me, not matter how I enticed him. _He cares too much for his family to leave them. _

I gasped quietly at the thought that hit me then – the connection that rang with a resounding thud. _I have to; he'll… he'll understand. He wants to save that village. There's still time…._

"Caden?" I grasped his shoulder and attempted to lift him, but his dead weight overcame me, and his bone smashed my hand against the wall. Yelping, I pulled back. Just below my index finger, pain bellowed and buzzed.

My squeaking stirred him. Caden groaned, rolling his shoulders and twisting his torso towards the wall. The muscles in his back stretched, and his joints popped as he cracked his neck and arched his back. He blinked away the sleep in his eyes and looked up.

"Gah!"

Caden jumped upright, startled and searching with a dizzy frenzy for an article of clothing to cover his chest. Then he sighed and settled for bringing his knees up to his chin. "I… I apologize, Princess."

"Why do you not wear your shirt?" I had not meant for it to be the first words I spoke, but they flowed from my lips without consent.

He offered a crooked smile. "It was rather… hot last night. There is no window for the cool air to breeze me, and it made it difficult for me to sleep. But I did not expect you to return so… soon." He blinked again, as if dazed that I existed.

Awkward silence spiced the air (which did feel a tad stuffy) until Caden swore to himself, scooted to one side of the bench, and motioned with chained hands for me to sit.

"There must be a reason for you to return so early, Princess," said Caden when I consented to his silent request.

I nodded but felt unsure of how to proceed. My gut bubbled and gnawed with angry teeth.

Caden frowned. "I supposed, then, you know the fate of my sister and Ayame?"

We met eyes, and his were hopeful; they bowed to me as Lithia did. There was little depth to the green because his soul had thrown itself to the forefront and bore its weaknesses that I may heal them.

I took a deep breath, tearing my gaze away.

_It. Is. Worth. It._

"Tell me," Caden encouraged, unwinding his grip around his knees and moving closer to me.

I managed to lift my head when he had spaced half the short distance between us. Striking his pleading eyes, I formed my lips to say the words I had to say: "It grieves me to say so… but they fare not well."

His answer was but a silent cry. "No."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Aye…. Upon hearing that I had left the castle, my beaux Sir Edrolph went into… a rage of sorts. When I returned safely to him, he had already heard your name and believed that you had kidnapped me. In retaliation, he sent some of his soldiers to… be rid of your family."

"No!" Caden recoiled from me, clawing at his scalp and clenching his jaw.

Though tears bit me, they were not the same as his. "Caden… I tried to do all I could, but he told me too late. The deed was done." Hesitating at first, I moved beside the weeping young man and extended my arms to him. His wet irises narrowed into slits at the gesture, but then they softened, and he fell into my embrace.

I laid his head upon my shoulder, and he erupted into a wave of sobs that shook our bodies. So broken was his grieving, I nearly took back the lie. But, as I had told him, the deed was done.

Caden's arms wrapped around my back, pulling me into him. His body was very warm, his skin rough and scarred. I pressed my hand into his scratchy hair and smoothed it as I would a child. But he remained grief-stricken for most of the hour. I had to muffle his moans into the fabric of my dress in order to keep away the attention of others.

When the emotion seemed to pass him, Caden pushed himself out of my arms and sat against the bench wall. He sniffed and whipped his running nose, and excess tears still streamed his red cheeks. In a cracked, mumbled voice, he said, "Forgive me, Princess; you should not have had to endure through that." He swallowed loudly.

I let the comment drop, shrugging and keeping my eyes away from his. "Caden… I know this is much to ask of you, but… I am in need of your assistance."

Caden glared, lips vibrating in a low snarl. But he caught himself. His jaw went taut. "What would you take of me now? I have nothing left to give."

_Perhaps I did not think this through…._ "I am leaving the castle grounds. Only you are so adept as to sneak without notice."

"Not so, Princess," Caden said with a bitter edge. He threw his arm to cover his eyes. "For if we had left so easily, then why were we caught?"

I had not an answer for that. Instead, I went around it. "This is different, for I want to leave not just for a day but… permanently."

Caden did not move for a long moment. Then, his arm slid off his face, and he stared at me – calculating the nature of my words. "What would possess you to leave all that you have?"

I bit my tongue, bracing my raging conscious for the added deceit. "You convinced me, Caden, convinced me of my folly. I wish to right the wrongs of my father. But I need you to help me. Together, we can warn the Varden so they may protect the ill-fated village."

The hardness in his face began to relax. "Why can you not stop it here, before the soldiers ever leave Urû'baen?"

"I tried to do so," and I had, "but I am only a woman; my opinions are not of high value."

Caden frowned, eyes falling to the cell floor as he became deep in thought. He said, "I know not how we should find the Varden were we to succeed in escaping your home."

I pursed my lips. An eyebrow curved deep into my skin at the curiosity he arose. "Father said you were affiliated with the Varden, yes?"

He shrugged. "I only snuck supplies to a designated hole in a wall. I never even knew the face of whoever retrieved it."

"Could we not go to that spot, pretend as if we are delivering a package, and find this person?"

Caden shook his head, the hay-like stalks of honey blonde hair sticking in random, strange ways. "I have not been to that alcove for three months now; that they need me still is highly unlikely."

I sighed, feeling a fog descend like heavy lead on my elation. "Then… perhaps it is impossible."

Caden made a noise akin to a snort. "You intrigue me, Princess. No, 'tis not impossible, and we will do it. There are children the same as my Kharisa prancing about that village, gay as a gaggle of geese – cripples the same as Ayame who have talent still left to give the world. If they truly are sent to the void as you say, then I will let their memory live on." He sniffed and mashed the heel of his palms into his eyes.

"But how?" I smiled inwardly at the turn of events, watching the stone that stiffened Caden's back and held his head high.

"We go south; we find the Varden; we rally their support; we save the people."


	11. Chapter 11

Night winked with the eye of the full, pearl moon. Tendrils of sudden ice seeped under my ribs, stabbing my heart and freezing the bones in my body. My knuckles rapped against the wood of the armoire, and the ice jaw bit down hard on my flesh.

No movement.

I grabbed for the first dress my hands caught on, tearing it from where it hung. The metal wire which held it swung up and then down. Its descent made only the slightest of squeaks from the inner rod it hooked upon.

Wrapping the gown between my arms, I closed the armoire doors and fell into a silent step out of what used to be Evelyn's room. Behind my own closed doors, I dressed.

_"You shall need a more complete disguise," said Caden. _

_ Groaning within, I remembered the whereabouts of my cloak._

_ "Evelyn, has she nothing that will suit your size?"_

_ I winced. "Nay… but… Lithia – perhaps – would…."_

_ Caden raised an eyebrow but let it pass._

The gown was a scruffy, cream white with an empire waist and a bow the color of rusted metal. It fell limp on my form, flouncy in the arm sleeves and puffy in the chest. It surprised me. Lithia did not look to be a larger size than I. I would sooner admit she was much smaller.

But no matter.

On the comforter of my bed laid out a wide cloth with the bread and cheese I had had Lithia find for me after supper.

_"We will need some food to start with." Caden shifted on the bench so he more easily faced me. _

_ I nodded. "Simple."_

_ "Do not bring any non-necessities: rouge, fabrics, sweet-smelling oils and perfumes. Only bring the gown you shall wear."_

The vanity mirror, with the reflection of the candle stick in its center, appeared to blink at me as if it were sad. Near it on the desk were vials of tan and clear liquids, of creamy lotions and pink powders. A shudder ripped through me, remembering Caden's harsh words regarding the cleanliness of the world.

But it could not be equivalent to the emotional claw racking my innards – that still ghosted in the midst of my eyes and froze my soul. No… it could not be as bad as that.

Then I heard it.

Like a scream, a cry of pleading, the door creaked in a slow arc to the wall.

"Lithia." I spun to meet her, to cover the food I wrapped on my bed.

But her eyes were like a mist. The velvet petals of violet that bloomed about the pupils drifted across an array of expression so near in reach but yet so far. Her wood brown nightgown slid over the smooth floor with lightness and grace. Her mouth trembled as if speaking… but no air retreated from her lips. She sighed then, and the breath burned black.

"'Tis late in the evening, dear Princess. Perchance I inquire why you are not tucked away and dreaming?" Lithia's neck cocked her head to the side. Her hair frizzed and billowed about her torso.

I pursed my lips, attempting to gentle the quivering of my heart. "Lithia, should you yourself not be in bed?"

"But what of you?"

The nerves numbed beneath my flesh. I suggested a dissatisfied frown. "That is the conscious of my own and not of my servants. Go now to your bed and sleep. With the rising of the sun comes a clear day, and all shall be well."

But what would have hours earlier crumpled the young woman into a ball now made her only bat an eye lid. "Does the Princess require assistance?"

My throat burned, the pain so great I cut myself off from ordering her away. Swallowing, I said, "You look not well. Tell me why."

Lithia stiffened. Her limbs quaked like the shaking of a tuning metal. And then, as if two great fingers pinched her body, she stopped. Wide eyed, splayed fingers, and gaping fish mouth, Lithia spoke with the tone of a tenor – so deep it was near that of a man's. The vibrations of her words clouded me like smoke. "Aye… aye… for I come from the h-h-house of the King…. His m-m-maid servant. And he bears thee a message… a message…. _Ah….._"

Lithia collapsed.

"Oh dear gracious…." I feared to move for she began to shudder once more. An elbow jerked up at an odd angle with a hollow snap. Her opposite hand crawled into the air, slower as if taking care in her movements. Her face lifted from the floor, jaw slack and open. Like a puppet, Lithia gained her footing and stood on two left feet.

She gasped, head snapping back.

Then she was laughing.

"A message… a message for you…."

"Yes? Speak with it now."

Lithia's eyes narrowed. Her voice deepened fully into a rich, male alto – a voice that resonated well within me. "Do not pretend to fool me, daughter." Lithia spat. "I know your means. Perhaps you make it from the city this night, but remember… you truly never leave me."

I shuddered. "What madness is this?"

Lithia, or, rather, the voice of my father, chuckled. "It is in your heart, child. Deep down, you will never find that of which you seek. Leave if you must… but you will return…."

Lithia's body wrenched to the right. It was as if she was being sucked in by the wind. She rushed with such speed… the temple of her head collided with the vanity mirror. Her body tumbled to the floor, glass drizzling after.

I fought back a scream.

Crimson liquid bled from her flesh.

Lithia did not move.

It was strange. My mind battled whether to grasp my cloth of food and continue on to Caden or to stay and attend to the bloody body lying at the feet of my vanity. But my subconscious seemed to decide for me as I found myself sneaking through the torch-lit corridors with the bag clutched to my chest. My heart beat for the cold hope that Caden's end of the night had gone as intended.

_"What shall we do for you?" I asked. _

_ Caden thought on it a moment before replying, "Use your…charm to convince the guards of committing negligence. I shall then proceed out their front door under their fat noses."_

_ "I do not know how long my command on them will hold – if at all," I informed him, feeling the scrawl of embarrassment write over the confidence. _

_ Caden shrugged. "If that happens… I'll get creative." His grin twisted cocky. But it fell, and he bit his lip. "You… you should probably leave now. Someone must be wondering where you are."_

I peeked out into the murky darkness out towards the hole in the garden wall. The cold hope grew icier when I saw no shadows moving through the grass. Regardless, however, I scurried across the maze of garden boxes over to the vine veil. My fingers grasped the dark ropes and pulled them back.

Filled.

The hole was filled.

"Back away," a heated voice stammered.

My core jumped; my legs obeyed.

It was Caden.

I sighed.

His fists wielded a heavy, black object, eyes trained on the veil of green the returned to its place after I'd moved away. Caden grunted, throwing his shoulders back and rising the object behind him.

I clasped my palms over my ears.

Caden executed a wide swing that compounded upon the triangular section of the hole. But the momentum did not stop. Caden's face sucked in shock and surprise. The hammer cleared through the brick without so much as a sound and chucked Caden forward and to his knees.

"Are… are you well?" My voice was a shaky whisper at best, hissing through the quiet night.

Caden blinked. "Ahum…. Strange…." He thrust away the vines and inspected the trauma – or lack thereof. A moment later, he chuckled.

"What merits your mirth?" I questioned with a harsher intensity. The contours of my hands began to sweat.

"The servants faked the replacement of this wall." He motioned with a finger for me to follow him. As when we snuck under to visit the city, the grooves in the wall were the same. I was beyond puzzled.

The 'outside' likewise remained unchanged. Caden offered his slick palm and assisted me to a stand. Still… my eyes fixated of the emerald towers – dull in the night. The city itself was as a mesh of dark paints smudging across the canvas.

"Let us go." Caden kept hold of my hand so as to lead us over the grass plains and into the richer district of the city.

Though I found it highly distasteful, we were forced by time and speed (and the patrol that guards the quarters of the wealthy) to travel through the workings of the alley ways. My foot had not forgotten, however, pressing into the warm fur of an animal that first time.

"You did as I asked, yes?"

"Aye," I said with a laced irritation. All my last hours were spent on his orders.

"Are they to leave this morning?"

"Aye. 'Tis their season for moving onward."

Caden grunted in affirmative.

As Lithia… or my father… had predicted, Caden and I came across little resistance. However, this made the knots in my belly tighten and squeeze to such a degree, I felt nearly paralyzed. _There must be those of harm preventing us through the main gate._

"Stop." Caden put out his arm to hold me back as he leaned into the opening of the alley. His chin lifted to the sky, to where light streaks were rising the night. The pearl moon paled like washed out white.

I heard the rumbles of a wooden cart passing us by. Hushed voices. Hoods and cloaks. Traders.

Caden bent to the ground and wiped his hands into the dirt. Then he turned to me and grasped my face.

"_Pardon?_"

"Shush."

He proceeded to smudge the dirt into the pores of my skin, swiping his thumbs in arcs across my cheeks and forehead. His hands were rough, indifferent. When they were dry of brown, he retrieved more and then rubbed my neck with it.

I could have spat him. I could have retreated back to the castle. The pads of his fingers insulted me, and I did not like his touching me. I did not want anyone to touch me.

Caden explained with a simple, "To more cover your features." He took the cloth bag from my hands, unraveled a side, and ripped it from the mass. We both winced at the rash sound it made, but it was lost in the animation of the growing carts and humans.

Handing the bag back to me, he grabbed my shoulders and suggested with a slight push for me to turn around.

I held back the growl when his fingers began brushing through my hair. "What is your meaning?" I hissed.

The cold fabric chilled my scalp. Caden did not respond as he continued to tie the cloth as a band about the rim of my hair.

"To more hide the beauty of your hair."

When I again faced him, Caden was rubbing dirt into his own skin. My face itched and felt red and hot. There was the slight twitch in my hands that wished to slap the young man.

"Remember," he said, "we are to blend with these people. We travel with them to Dras-Leona, where they go to do trade and business. Together, we are husband and wife."

I grimaced at such titles but understood their necessity. It was the surest way to keep to ourselves without much suspicion. If I was to disappear in the quietest of ways, I had to trust Caden's judgment. The judgment of a man who lived amongst the sand and fleas.

Caden and I looped arms and strode out from the shadows. In the opening before the first gate, a gather of people stood. Carts filled with necessities standing by. Some people were mounting their horses. Two children clung to the skirts of a slim woman who stood speaking with a dark haired man only feet from us.

A burly man stood to the side of the crowd. He noticed us first as we came close to the sparse crowd. His squished face and pinched eyes narrowed, and he said, "Now look-y here. We ain't got the time to hoist around any newcomers. We don't go for any trouble, ya hear?"

I flinched into Caden's side.

"And we won't cause ya any, sir. My wife and I, we wish to travel to Dras-Leona to visit with her bloomin' sister – if ya know what I mean – and I can't help but hearin' the mess of the Urgals hurtin' poor passin' travelers. Offer a man some peace of mind. Me and me wife here – we offer no trouble at all." Caden's arm slipped from mine and came about my shoulders, holding me tight into his side. I cuddled the food bag to my heart.

The large man wrinkled his wire-like, brown beard. His skin around his eyes were red and irritated, tired. But at Caden's words, the brown in his eyes seem to soften.

"Hvard, there ye be!"

A small woman with round hips came around the corner of a cart and squinted up at the burly man she called Hvard.

The man smiled, taking her tiny hind in his and glancing over at Caden. "This be me wife, the little minx."

"Who be ye talkin' to? " The woman brushed back her thin, black hair and scanned her neck around without success.

Hvard chuckled, the sound deep and throaty. "Don't ye be fooled by this lady. Hard trouble to see, ye understand? But she's a smart woman." Then he addressed his wife. "Tassi, they be right in front of yer eyes."

Tassi blinked her wide, glass button eyes but did not appear to focus on us.

"Aye, a pretty young woman and her handsome man, indeed."

I frowned. "How is she to know we are here if she is blind?"

Hvard laughed. "She be not blind, only hard on sight. Not that the night makes it any better."

Tassi giggled with him, latching her fingers onto his massive arm. "I came by to tell ye, Hvard, that the company is a'ready to be movin'."

"Then let us go!" Hvard swung his legs to the cart closest to him and picked up its wooden arms. He looked back at Caden and I and grinned. "Come ye with us. My wife would be much glad for the new company. The baby has just a'barely been movin' in her now, and she would love the company of yer wife."

I stiffened.

Caden rubbed my arm.

Tassi clapped together her hands and tottered over to the cart. "The baby, she's growin' fast an' healthy."

"Have ye any cart of yer own? Any belongin's of yer own?"

Caden shook his head while I held out the cloth of food. "We bring naught but the last of our food."

Hvard shook his head, frowning grimly. "Lost yer house to the taxes, did ye? The King, he's a mad one at that, drainin' his own people of their blood and conscious. That be how my wife and me came to do tradin'. We like the travel. Makes me feel as if ol' King himself can't snatch me in his claws."

Caden nodded and walked us forward as the carts began to move out of the city. Though I was warm within him, my innards were fraught with frost. Hvard reminded me, and I did not want to remember.

The sound of my father tickled in my ear.

_It is in your heart, child. Deep down, you will never find that of which you seek. Leave if you must… but you will return…_

**Some of you may be thinking: "That was rather anti-climatic" X/**

I say: "Is it ever really over when Galbatorix is involved?"

Hope that didn't just like disappoint everyone.

Hvard and Tassi just kinda appeared. Like Bam! Hey, we're a part of the story now! -P

I'm all like: ? Okay then...

Same thing happened with Caden saying, "Hey, we're going to pretend we're married so nobody woes you!"

Guess what chapter is next? (Her name starts and ends with an 'A')


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I find writing POV's of other characters in published canon rather difficult. Hope this works out alright. It's short to set the mental mood of my Arya character. **

It was difficult to explain the breadth of my feelings in those moments alone.

_"Be wary of him, my daughter." _

_ "He is not to be wary of."_

_ "Do not be too sure… do not be too sure…."_

Oromis and Eragon were sat about by the trunk of a tree. Eragon held in his clasp a blank tablet, and he stared at it with a curious expression, as if he were unsure of how to proceed. In my mind, I debated between irritation and neutrality. Irritation that he could not muster the ability to produce a fairth. Neutrality for the truth that I had not witnessed his more recent abilities.

The dwarf and I surfaced from the depths of the trees. Branches tickled and scratched my arms as if to hold me back, keep me safe in their shadows.

After the exchange of traditional greetings, Oromis spoke in simple tongue, "To what may I attribute this visit? You are both welcome to my hut, but as you can see, I am in the midst of working with Eragon, and that is of paramount importance."

"I apologize for disturbing you, Oromis-elda," I began, "but–"

"The fault is mine," said Orik, casting a quick glance at a perturbed Eragon. "I was sent here by Hrothgar to ensure that Eragon receives the instruction he is due. I have no doubt that he is, but I am obliged to see his training with my own eyes so that what I return to Tronjheim, I may give my king a true account of events."

Oromis appeared undeterred. "That which I teach Eragon is not to be shared with anyone else. The secrets of the Riders are for him alone."

"And I understand that," Orik insisted, his fist falling to his chest. "However, we live in uncertain times; the stone that once was fixed and solid is now unstable. We must adapt to survive. So much depends on Eragon, we dwarves have a right to verify that his training proceeds as promised. Do you believe our request is an unreasonable one?"

"Well spoken, Master Dwarf," said Oromis, fingers tapping together as he considered the dwarf. "May I assume, then that this is a matter of duty for you?"

"Duty and honor."

Eragon passed me a strange look.

"And neither will allow you to yield on this point?"

"I fear not, Oromis-elda." Orik's fist lowered to his side.

"Very well. You may stay and watch for the duration of this lesson. Will that satisfy you?"

Eragon again attempted to gain my attention with the flicker of his eye movement.

Orik frowned. "Are you near the end of your lesson?"

"We have just begun."

Orik perked up, though still retained a rough, dwarven dignity. "Then yes, I will be satisfied. For the moment at least."

That Eragon had refused to allow my presence to become a meaningless thought set my teeth on edge. His warm gaze locked onto the side of my head as I would not look away from Oromis.

"…Eragon!"

The boy jumped, blinking at the elf. "Yes, Master?"

"Don't wander, Eragon. I want you to make another fairth. Keep your mind open, like I told you before."

"Yes, Master," Eragon said. However, it was clear as the sparkle of a prism how uncomfortable he had become.

How I had obtained the adoration of such a boy, I knew not. My beauty aimed low by the standard of the elves, and I made a purpose of keeping a personal distance from him. Eragon was… sweet. But his understanding fell short. Someday, I wished for him to realize that I had nothing to offer him. I was hollow.

Eragon's warm eyes did not fare well in ignoring me. But he seemed to catch himself, settle his mind with a quick breath, and then uttered the required incantation. The tablet brightened and hues of red and black and green meshed and sparkled from its surface. When the glowing dimmed, Eragon stared at his creation – awed and transfixed… and fearful.

"What have you wrought, Eragon?" Oromis said.

_What indeed,_ I wondered myself.

"I… I don't know." Eragon hesitated to relinquish the fairth to Oromis outstretched hand but managed to hand it over.

I watched the lines of Oromis's face pull inward as he studied the object. He looked back between Eragon and the fairth, and embers heated his elfin eyes. Then his hand lifted toward me, offering me the tablet. Curious but confused, I took it and scrutinized the work.

_No._

Eragon imaged me_._

But not _me_, no…. What he depicted was the silhouette of exotic, entrancing beauty. This woman wore her night black tresses voluminous and free. Her eyes were intense, bright, and knowing. She gazed back at me with a mocking tilt in her lips, only the more vibrant due to the firelight that beheld her.

Without a thought, my hand clenched the fairth and hurled it into the floor with such force it shattered like fragile glass.

_No, no, no, no….._

I stalked past Eragon's still form, eyes trained on the shadows offered by the forest.

Beneath the leaves and branches, their cool arches and awnings, the forest offered tranquility. But blood bubbled under my surface. My fingers twitched and danced without my moving them.

Never had I been so _insulted._

_"You never told me I was beautiful," I said, leggings swinging with the breeze in the tops of the trees._

_ Fäolin's shoulders hunched. He reached out with his fingers, pinched a length of my hair that flew, and settled it behind my ear. "I did not want to be rude." _

_ "Why would you be rude for complimenting me?"_

_ His smile crooked. "If I were to say you were beautiful, I would be comparing you to the standards of which our race considers lovely and acceptable. I do not wish to insult you so, for your beauty is of what I consider pure and natural… your own. It would be rude to compare you to the vain and the unnatural."_

_ A small, relieving laugh bubbled from my lips, and I leaned into Fäolin's embrace. "Then I shall never call you beautiful."_

_ Fäolin chuckled. "I should hope not."And then he sighed, rubbing his hand up and down the length of my arm. The wind brushed the side of his face, tickling the edges of his black gold hair. "There is a nudge within me that says you do not ask for simple curiosity."_

_ "Nay…." I frowned. "Mother… she does not approve of our relationship. She said that I was wrong to believe you loved me… that you did not think I was beautiful or darling or any such thing but an acquaintance." A small shudder rumbled through my limbs at the memory in the early morning. _

_ "Believe you I that I find you so…. No word exists for me to describe you. All others pale in comparison." Fäolin's lips pressed into the skin of my temple, and his tender voice slipped into a murmur. "You know how I feel."_

_ He felt it when I stiffened, when I became cold in his arms. It made him sigh, and the passing breath pinched my heart. _

_ "Fäolin, I know this… I-I do, but–" _

_ He clucked his tongue and attempted a light chuckle. "But you cannot."_

_ I bit my lip, staying the groan that racked me. _

_ Fäolin's arm fell to his side, and there we obtained a space of a foot between our thighs. "The son of the elf woman, who scorned the royal house, dotting upon their precious daughter…." _

_ "You are not like her," I said. _

_ "But to your mother, it matters not."_

The soft give of the vibrant green leaves.

The crunch of firm, healthy bark.

A long breath rolled from my tongue as I pressed my forehead into the trunk of an ancient tree. Calm. Remain calm.

But her eyes singed my inner being. The mock of her freedom. The smugness of her bearings.

_Is that how he truly sees me?_ Eragon? The magic did not lie. In his mind, I was an exotic body with an independent face – alluring for I was not the village girl he perhaps once loved – attachable for I had given him friendship when others offered barbed fingertips.

I sucked in a ball of sweet forest air. If I could not manage to hold fast these emotions – anger, irritation, _pain_ – they would surely spill over my lap and become plain as the day.

_Islanzadí's cold fingers tapped a restless tune on the wood of the tree. Her eyes slit narrow, and she moved her lips with a fast pace. _

_ I was crouched upon the floor, fighting to hold my hands over my ears. Mother – the Queen – the dominant figure – her voice was a monotone scold that in this moment above others, I found I could not stand. _

_ Finally, the octave rose, and her mother's emotion broke through like a tidal wave. "How could you let yourself to that elf!" _

_ I said nothing. _

_ "He lied to you of his whereabouts this day. Who is to say he has not always lied, Arya? Why do you refuse to allow me to protect you from him?"_

_ Nothing. _

_ "Arya, he does not love you. He took advantage of you."_

_ I jumped in a lithe swirl to my feet. "Fäolin did no such thing." _

_ But Mother's fire was fueled. She reached out and grabbed my shoulders. Around us, the forest seemed to feel and connect with our discontent. The leaves began spinning in the grass, the branches in the trees creaking and bending in opposition to their trees. _

_ "When you open up, Arya, there is naught for you but misery and deceit."_

_ I snarled. "You and Father had no such relation." _

_ His name was a stab to both our abdomens. _

_ "I opened my heart to him, and the law of the land smote him from me."_

_ We winced. "Should it not be my decision, my choice to take such a risk? I am old enough for that, Mother." _

_ Mother cupped my cheeks, a sudden rush of tenderness sweeping away the fire. "I do this for you. I do this to protect you. Fäolin will make it so you have no more heart to give. Remember the Meona Tree, Arya. Heed my words."_

_ "No."_


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Strange chapter…..**

**No. Really. **

"They are the _strangest_ wedded couple I have ever come across."

"I think it is cute."

"They do not touch each other. The woman appears as if she is sick in his arms."

"Or perhaps she is truly ill, and that is why they do not touch as most do."

I groaned under my breath. The high, feminine voices were escalating around the camp site to the point Caden and I could hear them from our crouch beside a dead berry plant.

"Listen to me, old woman. They tell us lies. They mean to trick us."

There was a pause, perhaps for a chuckle. "Where are they now then? Ashter may be taking good care of his wife. Not all couples display themselves as you and your husband. Some enjoy their privacy."

The first woman growled. "This I know. But regardless, the shier couples still tend to retain a sort of physical contact with each other. Ashter and his wife do none of that. They were separated this day for all hours, and yet, so sign of joy to their reunion when the party circled and camped."

"Ashter was soft on her when he returned with the men."

"Aye, and yet what man would not feel soft near Jezebel – a pretty, young thing such as she? The woman did not bat an eyelash at his return."

"Oh, posh! Your tongue quivers like a rattler lizard. Gossip – puh! I am done with this conversation. Aid me with the supper fire or else make yourself useful with the other wives."

Caden chuckled as the voices died away from their crystal clarity. With amusement twinkling in his eyes, he said to me, "_Do _you appear to be sick when I hold you?"

My stone frown carved deeper down into the flesh of my chin. "I have naught to say to you."

Caden shrugged, his eyes prancing like a fox. "Regardless, 'tis not why we are out here." He pinched the brittle branch of the berry bush, and it cracked with little resistance.

My legs were kept close to my body; my eyes darted about as a lithe rabbit. I bit my lip, second guessing my reasons for telling this piece of myself to Caden. I had promised to lynch the lies to my identity, and yet here I was – most nearly renewing those thick ropes.

The circle of carts resembled castle walls, save for the wooden color and the lack of armored soldiers. We were outside of it, and my eyes could not keep from flicking back to where the wives prepared supper and the men secured the fortress. From within, the happy squeals of children could be heard as they played games of catch-and-run, seek-the-hiders, and variations of the two. The noises clenched my heart, jolted spurts of adrenaline to it.

Caden pinched off another tip of branch, and the sound shook me. This did not escape his notice, and he reached over the bush to touch my shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Do not fret; I will protect you."

At this moment, I could only nod, though fear of the wild beasts was not at the forefront of my mind.

He said, "Why do you bring me here?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I have a gift."

Caden's hand fell to his side, and he nodded. "Aye, I suspected as much."

"Nay." I shook my head. "You know but part of it."

Caden waited.

I sucked in a deep breath. It hurt a moment, as the air attempted to push past the nerves. I placed my hand on the top of the bush and willed my mind to remember the lessons I had been taught.

_"You have power, my dear, power that we will not allow to go to waste," said Father as he walked around the black pedestal. His fingers reached out and touched the wilting petals of the potted rose plant, caressing it as if it was a human cheek. Then his hand slunk behind the curve of his back, and his beady eyes stared at me. "Sing it to life."_

It was not the… simplest of tasks, but maybe – just maybe, it would soak up all the restless anxiety sparking my inner being. My lips parted and warmth flooded from them:

"Though time may… fade away

There life still remains

A spark of wonder will ignite

The beauty that will grow inside"

"Princess…." Caden's jaw fell slack.

The bush wriggled with quiet light under my warm fingertips. The dry brown of its branches became deeper and moist.

"Reach for the sunlight…breathe in air

There life still remains

The chosen words that feels alive

Will make the world come to life"

Green leaves broke out from under the wood flesh like it had an itch. Then fat, cool, fuchsia berries sprouted from button blossoms, swelling from lime green to their natural, ripe color. The berries jangled from their perches like bells, and their mother hummed hot energy.

When the rebirth was complete, I collapsed to the dirt and clutched my burning throat. It felt tight as chords and wild as fire. Black smudges puckered my vision, and blast sparkles in various colors exploded as if in celebration. But past it all, I could hear Caden say my name, feel him lifting me onto his lap.

"Prince – er… Jezebel?"

I winced as Caden cupped my cheeks and raised me so I rested on his shoulder. Though I knew the position was for the deceit of others, my skin could not help but tingle like scratch marks whenever Caden touched me so.

"Ho there! Yer wife, she be alright?" It was the distinct bass, riveting voice of Hvard.

I blinked away the colorful lights and pursed my lips. Still, however, I was unable to speak.

Caden kissed the top of my head. "Honey…" he chuckled, "need you fall to such theatrics to call for my attention?"

Hvard's heavy footfalls came closer, and two other men followed behind him. Worry gnawed each of their brows, and they searched with their eyes for signs of danger.

"Ashter, be yer wife well an' healthy?"

Caden looked up at them and nodded. "Aye, she be as well as a horse. Simply fainted under the spell of the sun, she did."

The men passed wary glances but drank the lie. "We shall… leave ye then, aye?"

"Aye."

When they retreated back to the circle, Caden released my head and allowed me to sit up and away from him. He frowned at the white, pale tone to my skin but shook his head rather than comment on it. "What did you do?" He waved his wand in a circular motion over the green, producing plant.

I pressed my fingers to my neck and then pointed to the berry bush.

Caden picked a berry off the branch that now wobbled rather than broke. Putting it to his lips, he took a cautious bite of the fruit. His mouth sneered at the taste, and he spat out the morsel. "This is as spicy and tart as a pepper stick." He tossed the berry over his shoulder.

I shrugged.

"It is because of your father that you can do that… aye?"

I nodded.

Caden sighed, wiping a hand over his wet brow. Dirt smeared on his skin like paint. "We should return to camp," he said finally.

Night settled in a few, quick hours. At this time, the travelers were placed about a fire blaze, warming their toes and fingers from the cold air. Regardless of having learned our pretense had not been convincing enough, Caden and I would have still remained huddled in an embrace, eyes casted about and peeking at the white and black orbs of the others. I was ailed with a violent shake that trembled my brittle bones and chattered my teeth like the Woodpecker. Caden rubbed his hands up and down my back, but his skin was so frigid, I feared it froze me more.

The woman with black hair sat with her husband across the flames. Her name, as I had been informed through Tassi, was Celeste. Her husband Kvithar had been a prominent merchant in the north coast and had supplied the Varden until my father capsized the business. Now they crawled across the land on hands and knees, watching for the break of dawn in the war.

The company was sectioned like the petals of a flower – five outside circles, and one inner. Hvard's section was the smallest, containing only five people when not counting Caden and me. Another couple had apparently been planning to accompany them, but they stayed last minute due to a harsh illness. And there were not many children in the company, and they all slept in the center circle. The children I had originally thought to be Celeste's were truly mothered to a sweet, short woman with reddish brown hair.

Celeste, strange woman, wore a permanent frown. Even if she looked to her husband, received a kiss or a sweet word, the crease in her mouth would only lift half way. Always there remained a negative curve.

Kvithar was not so easily deciphered. Together, the two seemed a pleasing couple. He grinned on many occasions when he saw her. But his eyes were not as bright as Hvard's or Tassi. And his hands twitched ever so often as if he imaged a sword in them.

The oldest of the company was an elderly woman by the name of Urea, and I assumed her to be the second woman discussing Caden and I. Her voice was just as airy, and she did not appear bothered by our presence as Celeste was. White hair grew from her scalp and sat in a mass on the back of her round head. She had eyes the color of the sky.

These were the immediate people I saw the most. Others roamed with us, but I easily forgot their names, and they never supped with us. I only remembered the four black cloaks – three men and a woman traveling to Dras-Leona for a religious mecha of sorts. And when any of them looked at me, they did so with beady glances and shadowy faces.

Hvard had Tassi warm in his lap like she was a cat. Once in awhile, he would whisper to Caden a jumble of words, but I could not catch what they said. They were nice enough to lend Caden and me supplies for the night without much question. In the beginning, it had been Caden's plan to pretend we slept in each other's arms, but we would roll away once the camp was asleep. However, this proved difficult. The wind howled like a rapier as it cut across the plains. The air dropped so cold, my breath puffed from my lips a white, misty cloud. Caden and I had to wrap our bodies close in order to keep warm.

Each night, I had to wonder what he thought of when most every inch of us touched for the last eight days. It festered like a colony of pests inside me. When I closed my eyes, I saw Edrolph and his hands holding me. Caden's steady, clam breath teased every fear, every freakish emotion contained in me, but I could not push away from him.

And now, by the fire, I huddled closer still. Anything to revive the feeling in my limbs.

Caden's hold tightened, and he pushed his lips against my ear. "Hvard suggests we go to the wagon and sleep while the wind remains at bay for the last hour."

I attempted a nod, not sure if the motion was lost within the convulsions. Caden stood us up and assisted me in taking small steps.

All eyes were monitoring us. As we inched closer to the bedrolls by Hvard's wagon, a tainted, feminine voice called to us. "Stay just a moment longer. There is a tradition of the travelers you _must_ partake of."

I managed to subdue a moment of my shudders and glanced out to see Celeste and her husband had stood.

Hvard gave a hearty chuckle and said, "An' how could I forget it! Kvithar, round out the drinks." He placed his wife to the side and heaved to his feet. Kvithar walked towards his cart and produced a small crate with portioned barrels within. He brought the spoils near the fire while Hvard explained what was going on. "See, when evr' we make it so near an end of a journey with little mishap, one mus' always celebrate it righ'!"

Caden nodded. "Aye… but ye plan to drink?"

Kvithar smirked. "Now while that makes one merry of a night, 'tis not the purpose of the tradition. It may vary from company to company, but the heart of the idea is to toast to the fortunes of fate – bless and please the gods above us that they may continue to rain their good will upon us."

"And," Celeste added as her husband grunted with splitting open the barrels, "the ritual 'tis not complete unless every husband and wife, every woman and her beaux, every couple connected by love kisses their other halves."

This made Tassi smile. "Aye, so that we properly thank the gods for their most precious gifts to us."

My heart froze solid and dropped to my stomach. Caden's shoulders became ridged. A spark seemed to ignite behind Celeste's eyes as she witnessed the two of us trip over the façade. There was no cleaner way of escaping this – not that I could think of in the moment.

Caden caught himself first, chuckling at the prospect. "Why Celeste, what a wondrous proposal."

"Indeed. Kvithar and I adore such tradition and order."

Her husband snapped open the lid of the last barrel, and Celeste began handing out the first two to Hvard and Tassi. Then she brought Caden and me our own, smirking in her own strange way. "Do not drink yet. The time is nigh but still not ripe." She returned to Kvithar, cupping his shoulder and kissing his stubbly cheek.

I casted my eyes about for Urea, and found her limp form breathing quietly in a restful sleep by the wagon of one of the cloaked travelers. Laughter from the next circle tickled the air, and I could hear the separate merriment coming from the circle south of us.

_Relax_, it all told me. _You are far enough from your father. Surely, if he cared to capture you, he would have already done so._

But spikes prickled my skin, and the wind began to pick up, pushing aside the tuffs of hair that fell from my bun. My fingers pressed with unneeded strength into the pores of the barrel wood.

Caden frowned into the amber liquid within his. Throughout the beginnings of our journey, his eyes had increasingly begun to darken and lose their hard light. When he was not occupied taking care of my needs or faking a grin to Hvard, I knew his mind dwelled on the fate of his family. He durst not speak of them, nor did he shed a tear.

"I know not much your relationship with your… nobleman," Caden murmured to me. The others did not look our way. Hvard teased his wife, and Kvithar and Celeste were now walking between carts to the other circles. "But we cannont allow them to suspect a thing. Forgive me for… taking such a liberty of you."

I bit my lip at the mention of Edrolph. _And how had he reacted to my disappearance?_ But to Caden, I said, "Do not worry yourself; I understand the need of the pretense."

He sighed, though as if another burden had been added to his shoulders. "What shall we do when we arrive to Dras-Leona? I fear Hvard will be quite tricky to dodge."

I shrugged. "Perhaps they will leave for Belatona as well. And then we will – ah…!"

Caden tilted my back just so and pressed his mouth over mine. The act appeared as an enigma in the fabric of life – a tree crushing a house during a great wind storm, a nest falling from its perch, a baby born with a defect.

It was over just as abrupt as it had begun. Caden leaned away and steadied my head with the palm of his hand. There was a glint of apology in his eyes, but he buried it to turn towards the gathering travelers. Celeste and Kvithar returned with the entire camp to celebrate their tradition, and Celeste wore a perturbed sneer in our direction.

Oh.

I pressed my lips together. They hummed with warmth and not the sickness I expected. Though I hardly deemed our 'kiss' a pleasant experience – my iced heart splintered and shattered, so great was my surprise – I did not cringe or flinch.

Taking a deep breath, I rested my temple on Caden's collarbone. His arm flexed and tensed against my back.

Kvithar cleared his throat and shook the barrel in his hands. "The Great Star is bright above us and leads our company to safety. This is a blessing from the gods, and we must thank them for their generosity."

Another man in a red tunic and dark pants raised his mead, and shouted, "A toast to the gods who bless us!"

Caden and I lifted our drinks with the others in unison.

The company said, "To the gods!" And drank.

While I had had wine before, never had I tasted the common man's brew. It made my nose wrinkle at the sharp, nearly sour taste; the drink slithered down my throat only to pit a fire in my bosom and jostle my belly.

Caden took swift gulps, a trickle or two dripping down his chin, like he was ridding himself of an unpleasant experience. I worried a moment of him getting drunk. Mother said 'twas never wise to be in the company of a drunken man unless he was your husband or brother. And I remembered black nights as a child when Father became a wild rage in a tipsy state (the moments only lasted for a few minutes or so before he sobered himself with magic).

Hvard roared a boisterous laugh that infected the entire crowd. Then, as if they were all in a dance, the men took the women by their sides, cupped the back of their heads, and kissed with fervent passion the female lips. Some of the couples' kisses lasted a short flick of time, while others, however, continued on and on with no apparent need to stop.

Caden delayed in his kissing me, perhaps to watch what was expected of him. He took my hair in his hands and molded our mouths together. It was almost brotherly for a second the way the ridges of his chapped lips his swept mine. But then Caden seemed to grow soft, the kiss moving sweeter. His lips tugged at mine, encouraging me to kiss back. He had brought us so close that his eyelashes beat like humming bird's wings on the apples of my cheeks. He breathed in, and then gasped, disconnecting our faces with a quick jerk.

We stared at each other with differing expressions. Caden's cheeks were sun kissed, fiery with embarrassment. Confusion flustered me, but I shook it off by looking to the dimming fire.

The camp had dispersed during our strange moment. Celeste, bearing her half-grin, approached us with clapped hands. "Off to bed now we go! In the morning, we rise to breeze through the last stretch of our journey and arrive to Dras-Leona." Then she shooed us and fluttered to her husband's side; they fell down to their bedrolls with exasperated chuckles and giggles. The noise brought back the queasy rumble in my belly (how glad was I when Hvard and Tassi informed Caden and I the rule of intimate courtesy).

Caden helped me down to the bedroll and two spared blankets from Hvard. His face, etched with crocked brow and gnawed lip, was conflicted, but he kept quiet as he stretched out beside me. For a moment, I thought of Urû'baen and Edrolph. Father deemed it was he that should sleep by my side, and yet I was here with a street rat. I allowed him to keep me warm from the cold. I allowed myself to ignore the lessons of my life to slip between my fingers. Dropping my previous life was not as easy as I had thought it to be, and the act was slowly driving me mad.

As the hour lengthened, the wind's claws were unsheathed and bit at my shoulders that peeked above the blankets. Caden felt my shivers and drew me into his chest with stiff, automatic arms. I used his collar as a pillow and was surprised to feel a sticky solution at the base of his throat. His heart beat flew with the wind; his chest, every few minutes, beat in time to the rattling of loose objects in surrounding carts. I began to feel something wet seep into my scalp.

He was not alright. My teeth chattered to say anything to help him, but they were incoherent. Another shudder ripped through me, and Caden buried his hand into my hair, holding my head to his skin. I wrapped my arms around him, if only to try and keep him warm as well. His heart seemed to calm, resting to a steady beat, and I assumed he was asleep.

Most nights, it took an hour or so before I could manage to drift to my dreams. This night, however, my eyes grew heavy, and my brain hurt from exhaustion. I followed Caden to the reality beyond with quick speed.

The pain woke me up – the sore, hot burning in my shoulder blades, and the cold hands that grasped my wrists.

The crash opened my eyes – the cart that toppled on its side, nearly crushing my feet.

The tenor scream shot me through the fog – the bodies that wrestled, and the man that fell.

I could not twitch my limbs. They felt as heavy as mountains, my head thick as stone. The world blurred in mist and haze like smoke from a fire. And something was dragging me away.

"Leave him! He's no concern of ours. Bring the horse; we must be off before Hvard stirs to reasoning!" The voice was clear ringing through my ears. Crystalline and bitter.

Celeste.

Again, I tried to struggle. But though I imaged shaking and twisting, my arms sloughed through the commands.

Celeste growled. "Why is he still fighting you?"

I saw Caden stumble to his feet, and his body seemed to be vibrating. His eyes were a bright, hot green as he fisted his hands and glared at Kvithar. It being dark, his motions were hard to make out, but I was sure Caden swung with an injured shoulder.

Celeste dropped me.

My head bounced hard on the ground, igniting white sparks to burst in the sky.

The woman reached under her skirt and produced a thin, silver object.

I willed my voice to shout but it would not.

With lithe precision, Celeste dived at Caden. The slice of metal into flesh silenced the grunts of dueling men. Caden wailed, and he fell to the dirt in a curled position.

Kvithar fell from my view as Celeste sprinted back to me and lifted my arms. Dirt dug into my back when she began dragging me away again. I wondered why no others heard the cries or the shouts, why I could not move and felt as if I were stuck in a dream.

Horse clops bounded towards us. The large animal came at my side and snorted on my right side. I heard the plop of Kvithar leaping off his stead, and felt his hard, sweaty hands slide under me and raise me off the ground.

"W..w..what... is… your… meaning…?" I attempted to say. My tongue sat fat and lazy like a caterpillar in my mouth.

"Might as well fall back asleep, bimbo," Celeste said as she got onto the horse. "It will be a long ride back to Urû'baen."

Kvithar pushed my limp body onto the saddle in front of Celeste. She put her arms on either side of me and took hold of the reins.

"Go," Kivthar instructed. "I will follow quickly behind."

Celeste nodded, and her wrists snapped to order the horse.

_What a fool I am._ I would be returned, and I would be punished. It would be as when Murtagh was brought back.

"Halt!"

A large man's arm reached over and snatched the reins. The horse, about to sprint forward, stuttered in its steps and stopped. "Kidnapping? Wha' madness be this?" Celeste froze behind me and did not resist when Hvard pulled me from the saddle and laid me on the ground.

"She's a thief!" Celeste suddenly decided. "I am brining her to the punishment she deserves!"

Hvard squinted down at me through his thick brows and burly beard. "If tha' be the case, then why ride yer horse opposite the direction of Dras-Leona – the nearest city?" He did not give her an opportunity to respond. Rather, he picked me up once more and started back towards the camp.

"Bring her back, Hvard, or you shall not like how this night ends," Celeste said with a dark, intent voice.

Hvard paused, and I worried a moment that he considered returning me to the mad woman, but he snorted and continued walking away.

The muggy, heavy weight on my limbs began lifting, and I could wriggle my fingers and feet.

"Your child shall never see the light of the morning!"

Without turning back, Hvard claimed, "Ye speak empty threat's, woman. For if ye were to ev'r touch a hair on m' family, it is ye who will not see the light of the next morn'."

Instead of a response, there were the clops of racing of horse hooves off into the distance.

We reached the cart where Tassi emerged from the small carnage to test my cheeks. Hvard set me on the bedrolls, and feeling fully returned in my arms and legs. The couple stared at me for a moment when an old voice said, "Tassi, the bandages! Quickly! Before he bleeds to death!"

_Caden._

Kvithar and Celeste did not return.

Though a part of me was worried of another attack, my main attention was focused on the boiling pot of water and the red-stained strands of cloth Tassi handed to me to wash.

It was morning now, and the company was abuzz with the near-kidnapping. Urea swatted most onlookers away, only allowing those with requested supplies to linger. Distance, she said, was what Caden needed. Tassi had a smidge of experience with medicine, and she and Urea worked to keep at bay any infection and major loss of blood. Caden had a deep stab wound just above his hip, and a minor burn on his shoulder when he landed into the embers of the fire pit and scrapped hard against the ground.

I wrung out the blood from the cloth strips and sterilized them. Tassi worked to wrap part his torso and his shoulder in newer strips. Urea muddled over a small pot across from me, pulling various ingredients from a gray bag and mixing them together. The stench emitting from it reeked worse than my silver cloak, but reminded me of a strange saying Lilyanna had made sure to teach me:

_The nastier it smells, the better it is for you._

Still, to this day, I questioned such logic.

But if it proved beneficial to my friend, then the smell could forever haunt my nose.

"Do not weep, child; it is fatal for the recovery," Urea said.

I wiped my cheeks, not realizing they were spilling tears. I shook my head and took a steady breath. "Will he be alright?"

Urea sighed. "I know not for sure. We must begin on our way to Dras-Leona. 'Tis this man's best hope of stayin' alive."

"Then why haven't we left yet?" I winced at the sharp snap in my tone. "…Sorry… I… I cannot let him die."

"O' course not," said Tassi once she finished the bandages. "I, too, would be so unwound as ye to save m' husband from the grips of death."

Urea took the pot off the fire. "We shall leave when I manage to have him drink this tonic. It will not save him, but it will fight back any infection squirlin' away inside him." She poured the green liquid into a tall, wooden cup beside her. It steamed and hissed. "A dear friend of my sister lives in Dras-Leona that can help Ashter better than I. You must find her."

I was about to inquire how to do so when Caden grunted and blinked opened his eyes. He groaned, twisting his head from side to side. Tassi moved away when I scrambled to his side.

"Caden? Can you hear me?" I put my hands on his face, and he frowned at me. But he nodded in affirmative. "How do you feel?"

Caden moaned. His hands reached to clutch the stab wound, but I held him back.

"You shall live, Caden. We are taking care of you," I said.

But Caden shook his head, his eyes downcast and sorrowful in their forest depths. "I hurt," he rasped. "I see beams of light."

"Simply the sun, Caden." My right hand ran down his left arm, gripping his feeble fingers.

He groaned again as if he had not heard me; his eyes fell shut.

"Worry not, for he rests," Urea said when my hands began shaking. "It will do his body well."

I attempt a trembling breath. "Is your remedy ready?"

Urea motioned for me to move behind him and instructed me to pull his head into my lap so as to lift it. Then she pinched his jaw in a way that opened his mouth wide. I tilted the angle of his head more as the old woman poured the drink between his lips to aid his swallowing. Urea paused every so minute to give the liquid a chance to slide down his throat. When he swallowed the entire tonic, I rested his head on my lap and smoothed back his hair.

Unorthodox or not, this man was my friend. Guilt weighed as heavily as the poisoned mead Celeste had tricked the company into indulging. _When all is set and done, he shall curse me to a torturous death for all the pain I have caused him._ Yet despite what I knew was inevitable, my conscious willed me to make the most restitution I could.

Urea and Tassi rummaged about preparing the abandoned cart of Kvithar and his wife for Caden. I stared at the man's troubled face, brushing at the frown lines. _If you should die, know that you wrought great influence upon me. My life is forever changed because of you._

**A/N: What'd I like to know about this besides the general "How good was it" would be how the emotions of the chapter affected you – if at all. **

**Thanks :-)**

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	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I'm updating! Lol. But because next month is going to be slow-going. I have another project I have to work on next month for Camp NaNoWriMo, so most of my focus will be on that. While I will still write on this, it depends largely on reviewers and my muse to how fast I update next month.**

Entering into Dras-Leona stabbed and pinched my gut the same as Caden's wounds. Urû'baen, though it had lack of some color, had a certain architectural integrity to it I had imaged to be continued throughout the Empire. Dras-Leona, on the other hand, appeared built and expanded without rhyme or reason. Within city walls, one would have expected some order, some logical thought, but the houses were shacks, piles of laid wood that splintered and cracked. And, despite such disorder, the streets were straw-narrow and huddled with the poor and unhealthy.

We reached the city just before sundown began. The company had allowed Hvard's and Caden's carts to steer faster forward so that we might save my 'husband's' life. As we walked with stiff speed, the three woman had to work together to push Caden in the cart and keep up with Hvard. My hands blistered and reddened, screeching of pain I had never felt before. But I could not care about it – not yet.

It was in Dras-Leona that I realized my mistake, however.

Urea was about to wander off in search of her medicine friend when Hvard stopped her. We rested under the shade of an awning created from sack cloth. It was for company travels such as ours – a wide, clear space to protect potential selling goods for the merchants and shop keepers in the city.

Hvard had been… quiet during the trip. His face now scrunched up with sour distaste, and his lumber brown eyes looked on like a man betrayed.

Betrayed by me. And Caden.

"Ye are not who ye say are," he said.

Tassi turned her back to me and went to fiddle with things in her cart. Urea sat in the other cart with Caden as he slept with a weak breath. Her face was dull – as if the information was no surprise to her.

Hvard did not give me much chance to respond. "Ye appear as a woman of poor origin yet Tassi notices ye have smooth, perfect hands. Ye call to yer husband by the name of Caden and never respond when we say Ashter."

My mouth opened to speak but no words tumbled out.

"M' worst fears be ye are of the King and tha' ye may harm m' wife an' child. Know tha' if this be yer intention, I will hun' ye down an' kill ye with a flamin' wood pike." Hvard's chest pumped with his rage; his face burned bright red.

Finally, I found my words. "I do not work for the King. My husband and I mean you no harm."

"But ye are not who ye say ye are."

It was not a question, but I attempted to sway him anyway. "Listen, please, Ashter–"

"Caden."

I hit my palms on my eyes. They were wet. "I can not let him die."

Tassi returned from the cart, putting a small hand on her husband's clenched fist. "We had decided to aid you in finding the healing woman, but, after that, we shall part ways."

Hvard grumbled into his beard and stalked off towards the streets.

Tassi frowned at his back. "Do not take his anger in full, please; but lies to him are the bane of human kind. He has been lied to enough in his lifetime."

I nodded and sniffled. "Thank you for what you can offer."

She said nothing.

Urea slipped out of the cart and came up beside me. In her hands was a damp, soiled cloth that she held out to me. "Keep watch over him. We will search for my sister's friend while there is still little light," she said, and then chuckled at my puzzled look.

"Why will not you stay in place of me?" I asked.

"I have a feeling he woul' much rather wake up to you than me." Urea and Tassi began to walk off.

"But I–" _Oh, what 'tis the point?_ I sighed, pressing the heels of my hands into my tired, craggy eyes. The flesh of my bones was slick with oil and muddied with dirt; the tresses of my hair contained so much grease, sections separated into shiny ropes as they slithered down my back. My clothes were stiff and covered with a layer of dust. I smelled of awful body odor.

Caden lay in a diagonal position on the cart, his forehead resting against the corner. Sweat beaded along his hairline, the color of which had darkened in the midst of sunlight and grime. I ran the cloth along the beads and patted the lines of his nose. A groan came from his chest as I continued drying him.

In a small whisper, I said to him, "They will find you help."

One of his hands seemed to rest subconsciously within inches of the stab wound, of which was covered with tight cloth. He whimpered in his sleep, tossing his head to the side.

"Shh, shh." I brushed back the locks that fell into his face, ignoring the grease and oil that stuck to my fingers. Touching him was no pleasant feat, but the guilt made me numb.

I was searching for a clean piece of fabric among his blankets when I heard a distinct _meow_. Looking up, I saw a cat perched on the raised side of the cart. It had a smooth coat of black, a slender body, and a swishing, curious tail. Its yellow eyes pierced me, and it cocked its head to the side as if considering my presence.

The cat jumped into the cart beside Caden and blinked down at him. With graceful, deliberate steps, it came up to his head and licked his cheek. Caden groaned and rolled his head away but otherwise remained unconscious.

"_Shoo_, cat; _shoo_!" I swatted my hands at it, but the cat simply danced away and pawed the wood side.

Again, the cat seemed to regard me, to calculate me. It hissed, the black fur spiking like rose thorns.

"Get out!"

I lunged to capture the cat, but it leapt up and landed on my back, pushing my belly onto Caden's legs. The cat _meowed_ and pranced off me with a strangely satisfied look.

Sitting back up, I ignored the animal and tried to fix Caden's position. He was grumbling now, shifting in his pain and flapping his eyelids. The cat jumped to his side once more and began licking his arm. Caden moved in reflex, pushing the tongue away.

"Pr-pri…princess…." His voice was cracked, low, and weak.

"Stupid cat," I mumbled.

It was now snuggling into the crock of his neck, acting almost as a pillow. When its eyes closed, I plucked it up and into my arms. The cat squealed in protest and bit my forearm. I gasped and dropped the animal, clutching the flesh wound.

"What is your meaning, vicious feline?" _Oh, who am I to think? _I _must_ have gone made. Look at me! I am raging at an animal!

I turned to the pile of fabric strips and wiped one over the bite wound. It was shallow, barely a trickle of blood, but it stung like a scratch.

What fascination with Caden this strange cat had, I knew not. And I did not have half the mind to care. But it returned to him, this time to his shoulder, and began clawing at the bandage with careful movement.

I was about to screeched at it again, but I had the sudden feeling to trust it.

The cat cut away a portion of the bandage, enough to reveal the core of the scabs and red hash marks. Then it stuck out its tongue and licked the irritated skin, ignoring when Caden tried to shrug away or sneered.

"Pricilla!"

The cat paused in the cleaning, glanced up with a bored expression, and then continued on.

The annoyed, feminine tone came closer, and I noticed a short middle-aged woman suddenly appear beside the cart. She held out a hand when I jumped in fright and said, "Really now? You must be quite jumpy to have fear of me, child."

"Pardon?"

The woman rolled her eyes with an impatient shrug of her shoulder and put her hand down. "My name is Aleahma and that is my cat Pricilla."

I nodded, though I felt my eyebrows stitch together in confusion.

Aleahma frowned at the cat. "Truly, you choose to make a fool of yourself _now_?"

"Pardon?" I was puzzled she was speaking yet staring at the self-righteous cat.

But Aleahma glared at me as if she heard my thoughts. "Is that all you can say? Pardon? Do you have an older, bratty sibling and your parents could not stand to have another?"

_Strange…._

Her attention snapped back to the cat, who was satisfied with its cleaning job and had leapt over to her owner. "There is no meaning to looking at me like that! What would you have me do?"

Pricilla pawed Caden's arm.

"Heavens no, I rarely care for it."

My head started to hurt. "Madam?" I said, hoping to calm her.

Aleahma snapped, "Oh good, you can speak more words. There was a smidge particle of me worried for you."

"_Madam_," I emphasized, now agitated, "do you know of a medicine woman?"

"Of course I do; everywhere in the land – most every village is in need of one, aye?" Aleahma held out her arms for Pricilla, but the cat snubbed her for Caden.

"Do you know of a medicine woman near here?" I specified. "Please; my friend – he is in dire need of assistance. His life depends on it."

Aleahma glanced at Caden's body and then at the cat. She flipped between the two for a moment before sighing. "I cannot help him."

I pursed my lips. "I did not ask of you. Are you a medicine woman?"

"A herbalist, in the most specific form, aye. But it has been long since I have… practiced." The woman pushed a wiry hand into her thick, brunette scrunches. "And his wound is too severe for any of the amateur failures of Dras-Leona."

_How did she know that?_ Sudden unease crept into my belly.

"Perhaps… you know of anyone who can be of assistance?"

"Aye."

"_Who?_"

Aleahma, rather than grabbing Pricilla, stroked her long, black spine. "There is only one: my ever flighty sister Angela. But, from last I heard of her – and believe you me it has been quite some times since I have seen, _let alone_ talked with her – she lived in Terim."

Her words were the sole of a foot grinding into my heart.

"Oh, child, do not appear so forlorn," Aleahma said when the tears began smarting my face. "He shall be in peace. I find living to be more a burden than dying anyhow."

I hissed much like the cat and shouted, "_Heal _him!"

The woman bristled but seemed otherwise unaffected by my command.

My voice dropped low, gained an edge of utter darkness that clutched my very being. "Believe you _me_ when I promise if you allow this man to die, I will have your life broken bit–by–bit till nothing but your physical form shall remain. Then you shall die so _miserably_ that you–"

"Strong words for such a simple woman," Aleahma interrupted, her brow raised in curiosity and perhaps offense. Then she shrugged, throwing her voluminous hair over her shoulder. "Do what you will, child. It would be a blessing for you to kill me – however torturous. Death has never been designed so appealing as it has today."

She broke me.

Never mind the confusion as to why she was immune to my voice. Never mind the pain bursting in my head. This woman knew how to heal, and she condemned my friend to _die_.

I crumbled into a ball and then fell to my side. My forehead touched Caden's chest that rose to little height. His breath was shaky at best. The cat synched his lasting energy when she licked and annoyed him.

Caden was going to die.

_I'm so sorry; I'm so sorry I took you from your family…._

"Ach! Blast you _stupid_ cat!" Aleahma sneered. She growled. "_Alright_, so long as you leave me be." Her words tumbled into a mixture of foreign words and harsh hacks. I felt her hands on my body as she shoved me off Caden.

I hiccupped and sat up, blinking away the wet film in my eyes.

She flicked her hands at me. "Get out of that cart. There is no possible situation in which I could pull the both of you."

"Pardon?"

Aleahma groaned. "Let us not digress to that, child."

"I am not a child!"

"Then why do you weep as one?"

I scrambled out of the cart under her sneering gaze. "Grown women – even grown men – cry when they are in misery," I said.

Aleahma waved off the comment. "Aye, but there are distinct differences between the two – a child weeping and an adult crying. Most anyone can hear where they differ."

I wiped my eyes, thoroughly embarrassed. "Why I never heard a more ridiculous thing."

But the woman no longer paid direct attention to me as she lifted the cart arm from the floor with surprising ease. "Denial – another trait which is attributed to a child, my dear."

I had no retort.

Aleahma lived in a small shack-hut that resembled a game of drop-the-sticks. While most of the ramshackle, disoriented houses were closely built in a frenzied fashion, hers was separate from the chaos (though not by much, as neighbors were close by, but it was enough for one to keep their sanity). As Aleahma pulled Caden through a street, through a narrow passage the cart nearly did not fit within, and settled the cart by her front door, the cat was content to curl against Caden and purr. I was silent, watching the herbalist with extreme caution but also harboring desperate hope that she would heal my friend.

"Help me, would you?" Aleahma directed to me.

I nodded, climbing into the cart so as to wrap my arms around Caden's torso. With her taking hold of his legs, we lifted him out of cart. My muscles strained to not only raise his decent weight but to hobble him into Aleahma's dilapidated hut and onto a flat mattress. It was when he fell onto the straw bed that Caden finally came to awareness, though his eyes scattered as if they could not see.

"Kh…Kh…Risa…." Caden attempted to pick up his arm but failed in one weak try.

I kneeled next to him and frowned. When his fingers continued to grasp at the open air, I grasped his hand and smoothed the back of it.

"Kharisa?"

"Shhh…."

His eyes looked at me, but they were murky – soup. He squeezed my hand, the pressure feeling no more than the kiss of a fingertip.

And then Caden closed his eyes and rested his head back. The retaining grip of his fingers told me he still lived, but their strength lessened every moment.

"Move aside," Aleahma said.

I scooted to give her space (so that I sat by his legs rather than his head), but Aleahma ended up shooing me entirely away from his body. When our hands disconnected, his dropped with a limp bounce and the sight shot a pain of worry into my chest.

Pricilla sauntered over to the bed, hissing at me as she passed by, and leapt over her owner's back to fall between the wall and Caden's head. Aleahma glared at her before ignoring the cat altogether. She had in her hands two vials with yellow, thick liquid and grassy green, less dense liquid; she set beside her a potato sack, out of which popped tuffs of dark emerald herbs. As seconds ticked into minutes, the herbalist began to work together a concoction inside a scrapped, dust brown bowl tucked under her arm.

The shack, I deducted, consisted of only two rooms. We were in the larger of the two now, and there was a door shut that I supposed led to the other. A small, kitchen-like setting was pushed up into the corner. One of its cupboards hung open on bent hinges. The depression in the solid wood beneath it served as an immature sink. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a curved-edged chair made from bark stripping and softened with a gray, wooly blanket as a cushion.

I leaned against the prickly wall made from mud, adobe, and long sticks, watching as Aleahma mashed three full drops of each vial, a fist of varying stem leaves, and a bristle of shredded herbs into her bowl. I asked if she needed a pot of sterile water, but she responded in the negative, saying the potion was more potent in a cold, fresh form. Knowing nothing of medicine, I did not argue and struggled to trust this strange, reluctant woman.

When the ingredients became a solid, muddy form, Aleahma pulled up Caden's tunic and pulled away the tainted bandages. The wound reared its ugly, red mouth, puckered with ripped, crimson teeth. Using the mashing instrument, Aleahma scooped up a large mass of the green mud and plastered it _into_ the hole.

Caden gasped and snapped his jaw.

"What are you doing?" My body bent forward, intent on protecting him, but the herbalist shot out a hand to stop me.

"I know that of which I do," was all she justified before she continue dabbing the slime in and around the wound.

I folded my hands together to keep from wincing when Caden grimaced or groaned. The cat attempted to give her own sort of comfort to him by licking his face and purring in his ears.

When the entire bowl of mud had been emptied in some form or fashion onto Caden's wound, Aleahma placed her fingers on either side of the opening and pinched it together. Caden growled at the pain. Aleahma then muttered a strange verse of words, leaned close, and blew a gust of breath over his skin. My eyes widened to see her concoction harden like clay.

The woman dusted off her hands with a few quick swipes and stood. "There," she said, though she looked to the cat and not me, "Angela's very own potion at its best." Aleahma sneered this. "Now will you explain to me what this is all about?"

"Pardon?" I spoke up. "Are you speaking to me or the cat?"

Aleahma frowned at me. "You must truly be a boring child if Pricilla refuses to speak with you, and – _oh_…!" The frown crooked into a bizarre smirk. "She wishes for your tongue to be clawed out. Quiet an ugly picture, but I nearly agree with the sentiments."

"_Pardon?_"

Aleahma sighed and shook her head at Pricilla. "I know not such an answer, but I fear her words may be in pieces. We shall see what the man says should he wake."

I stiffened at the mention of Caden. "Will he be alright?"

Aleahma gathered her herbs and supplies and placed them on the wooden counter. "I used the special brew my sister is very well known for. If it proves fatal, then you may hunt _her_ with your pitiful arrows to fix your revenge."

The word _pardon_ bounced to my tongue, but I bit it down and swallowed it back.

Pricilla licked Caden's eyelids and patted his cheek with her paw. She made a satisfied _meow_ sound and curled up on his chest to sleep.

"_See_? Pricilla has no doubt in me," Aleahma said but then was quick to glare at the cat for some reason or other I could not fathom. "I have put up with your inconceivable insults for long enough, you _stupid_ feline. If she is _that_ better suited for you – go! _Oh,_ do not get started with him. It has been nigh a century since your _willing_ separation with him. I take no blame for it!"

I wondered for a moment the nature of Aleahma's herbs – and then the stability of her mind.

It appeared the argument had ended, however. Aleahma turned to her sink and began pulling out objects from her cupboards I did not believe could fit inside. She eyed me when I continued to stare and ordered me to sit in the only chair in the room.

**A/N: To expect an update from me, I would find it very encouraging if I received 10 reviews for the story :-) (I'm not holding anything hostage, but it'd be pretty cool. And the next chapter is sorta reminiscent and special to all AxE lovers)**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: This scene is really tough….. Sorry if some of the writing is stiff – that tends to happen when I write a published scene through the POV of another character. Arya was everywhere O_o and I did not know how to fix it.**

Through the bright, sensational celebrations of the Agaetí Blödhren, I did not find it hard to image the Dragon Rider as the young, immature boy of Carvahall Eragon had described to me so many times. The way he danced and jigged with such a clumsy grin, he was gay and a child towered over drunken adults. But despite the fleeting quality of it all, an easy, simply smile molded into my cheeks and stretched my lips.

"He is a sweet boy," Mother said from beside me.

I found myself nodding before I realized I had moved. "Aye, Mother."

She eyed me under the cool shade of the Meona tree. "Humans, I find, are interesting creatures – what with the way they dally with love and the short, trifling span of their lives. I had always wondered in our separation how you managed to… _exist_ – an enduring glory such as your self amongst the short-lived."

I winced at the inquiry, sensing an underlying purpose to her words. But I answered nonetheless: "'Twas strange in the beginning. But I made friends with them, Mother. While humans, yes, are short-lived, this does not strain their ability to hold and follow through their loyalty."

Mother tilted her chin in consideration. Blagden flapped his wings as if annoyed and shook his feathers out while perched on the Queen's shoulder. "If Eragon proves to be the fruit of his race, then perhaps the land is not so far gone as I had deducted."

"I found throughout the years humans come in many varying… colors…." I sighed, leaning against the sturdy tree bark that hummed with energy and life.

Eragon was unique in this way – so rough and yet so gentle. He battered his way through the horrors of taking lives and took on a shade, but there he swayed and pranced not too far away as if he had not the care in the world. Perhaps Saphira was what made the difference in his life. I envied their connection, the heart and honesty that bound them so close they were hardly two separate beings.

"Take heart, Arya," said Mother, "for the festivities are young still and have yet to mature to their full potential."

I tucked away the sorrow and confusion and allowed my senses to become entranced and muddied with the magic, music, and elfin mead.

I remembered swirling in a fast circle, taking hands and sliding about over and under elves. Our feet clapped the smooth grass that tickled our toes. We danced around the Meona Tree, laughed and called to her energy to bring the forest to life.

I remembered the gifts given – the endless sea of words and voices. When I offered my own poem, Mother gave me such a smile as I had not seen for over seventy years. Eragon managed to write a fine poem that held meaning, and I agreed with Mother to hearing it once more and saving it in the Hall. Saphira brought tears to many eyes with her addition. She brought a life and zeal to the forest and the elves that had been missing for nigh a century.

I believed I remembered most acutely the Caretakers – the dance that revived a stunning dragon that appeared to be alive. The dragon was intent on Eragon, and for a moment I was curious as to why, but the magic was so thick my mind swayed away.

And then he collapsed.

I remembered shock and surprise at the sudden heave his body gave. The dragon appeared to pull back his mouth and then spat out red sparks that rained on Eragon. They made his body glow so bright, I no longer held sight of him.

I remembered Oromis and another elf taking the boy's body towards his hut, and I followed. I asked if Oromis knew Eragon's plight, but he did not know for sure. The assisting elf – a short elf with cherry lips and slicked back, blonde hair – suggested he had been given a _gift_.

They laid him on his bed where his shut eyes stared towards the ceiling like a peaceful corpse. His flesh retained an unnatural red glow that permeated from him a strange scent I had never smelt before – though it was not unpleasant.

I turned to the elf maiden. "Know you Eragon?"

She shook her head with a slight smile. "Nay, Dröttningu, not in full."

"He intrigues you, then?" Strangely, I frowned at the thought. But perhaps there was some logic in it: after all, I had been Eragon's sole connection to the Elvin world, the model he built his perception upon when he thought of my race. To think he could find other elf maidens interesting irked me.

The elf roamed with bright, seeing eyes across his body and said, "Humans in and of themselves intrigue me. Their mannerisms differ from ours in ways that I admire. I have read much on several racial opinions of their race, and, to me, Eragon represents the whole of which is good in them."

I pursed my lips. Rarely did I meet a respective elf that thought so nicely of the human race. "What is your name?"

"Nyellie, Dröttningu." She inclined her head in respect.

Eragon rested in peace, and though I worried for him, I knew my presence would be missed at the celebration. Holding in a sigh, I said to Nyellie, "Let us return to the festivities, Nyellie. Perhaps you and I may have further word on the matter."

Her eyes – honey licked – widened. "Such an honor that would be, Dröttningu, but I must decline."

"May I inquire why?"

"My mate and I promised to spend this night in each other's company. When I saw Eragon fall, he allowed me to assist elda-Oromis. Now I feel the pull that I must return to him." Nyellie turned to leave when I caught her arm.

"Then I shall accompany you," I said, and we walked back to the Meona tree together.

Her mate, a sweet-eyed, brown haired flute player, flittered from the glade to meet Nyellie. He seemed not to notice my presence and rushed to take her hands in his. He was about to pull her away when awareness struck him and froze him to the grass. Quickly, he honored me in greeting and apologized for his behavior. I assured him he was forgiven.

"You have a lovely mate."

Nyellie grinned, squeezing his hands. "Danu and I are dear, close friends."

Danu chuckled, his smile puncturing his lean cheeks. Taking back a hand, he produced a buttery, golden flower from a sack tied to his waist and offered it to Nyellie. "A gift to you, my dear – the Buttercup Lily I crafted after the shine in your eyes." He slipped the lily behind her ear and kissed her apple cheek.

They left to bask in their emotions, leaving me to ponder their wake.

I tried to ignore the memories Nyellie and Danu shook in me. My gait quickened as I hastened to Mother's side. The celebrations were at their climax, Oromis, Glaedr, and Saphira preparing the ultimate tribute to the Agaetí Blödhren. A part of me wrestled to pay strict attention to the ceremony I had fantasized of as a child, but naughty emotions stirred me away.

_"Tell me you love me," Fäolin said with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. _

_ We had been sitting by each other close to the warm fire. Glenwing slept across on a bed roll, his face hidden behind the flames. But then Fäolin twisted where he sat and shot his arms out on either side of my waist so that he may trap me between them. _

_ I smirked, taking bite of the bait. "Tell me that I am beautiful."_

_ He pressed his cheek against mine, dragging out a slow, hot breath against my ear. I could feel his smile when I shivered in response. "You, my dear, are why languages continue to fester in frustration for they will never pen the variety of words that describe how you appear to me."_

_ Our faces slid away until our noses touched. I replied, "Then how can I describe within our language how much you mean to me?"_

_ Fäolin chuckled and leaned back. "Your mother would be aflame should she ever hear you speak so – mad as a red-eyed rabbit, you are."_

_ "Regardless of what I say, my mother is always aflame, most especially since I left."_

_ "And I followed after."_

_ "You stayed behind for years."_

_ "To give you the space with which you desired." _

_ Our noses touched again. "And I will never want for it again – not in my lifetime." I smiled and kissed his top lip. Fäolin seemed to gravitate towards me, following my mouth when it did not stay. He kissed me with an enveloping sigh, his hand reaching up to grasp my head and hold me close. _

_ "Arya," he said, "I have been… thinking as of late."_

_ I laughed, teasing his mouth. _

_ "…There is a way… a way in which we may say our love in the most ultimate way…." He caught my bottom lip between his and sighed. _

_ It was then I felt his hand on my stomach, and I processed his meaning. Pulling away, I offered him a half smile. "Fäolin… this is not the time." My cheeks grew as hot as the flames. _

_ But he nodded rather than protested. "Aye! Aye, Arya." He chuckled. "Now is hardly the true moment. I meant… one day we could…."_

_ "After this war."_

_ Fäolin inclined his head. "After this war," he agreed. _

Mother touched my arm, jostling me from the remembrance. "Arya," she chastened, "Where is your mind?"

A burst of blue flames erupted into the sky following the feminine roar of pride. Startled, I shook my arm away from Mother and frowned at her. "I fare well, Mother. You needn't worry about me."

"I always worry over you, Arya." Her eyes softened, and I felt a twinge of guilt.

"'Tis sweet of you, and I thank you, but I am well." I attempted a simple smile, but the magic of the night had faded – replaced with regret of wasted years wallowing in caution.

Mother patted my arm once more. "Perhaps a walk in the forest would clear your mind?

I revealed nothing, only rose from her side, cut through the crowding elves, and slipping into the dark trees.

The forest retained its quiet hum, the energy spurring through my limbs as I glided through the trees. Yet I felt nothing but the whisper of the memory that, in the madcap night, sprung from the depths of my inner being.

_Never cry._

I practiced holding my mask in the dark, forging the lines of my face to appear no more emotional than a blank scroll. When the forest revealed a secluded clearing, I walked into the open and stared up at the white stars. With a cleansing breath, I released the emotion to the twinkling sky and gathered a strict control of myself.

Then I heard the rustle of leaves, the quiet footsteps of a pursuer. I turned and felt sudden shock to see it was Eragon.

Eragon…?

Aye, Eragon – dressed in a gold-stitched, crimson tunic, white jade studded belt, felted leggings, leather vambraces on his forearms, and cloth boots.

And yet, not Eragon. His face had gentled, the color of his flesh whitened; his eyes slanted as my race, and his ears were tapered the same.

"Is that you, Eragon?"

He grinned like a drunken man. "Aye."

"What have they done to you?" I remembered the red hue that had cocooned him – now absent entirely.

"I know not." Eragon came to me as if lulled by my presence, and we went through the forest together.

As we walked, I noticed that, while Eragon obtained much elf-like features, he still retained a rugged, human touch unlike any elf. His brow was thicker, his face broader, and his jaw stronger and more defined. His step was heavier, deliberate, and he soaked in these new changes with the awe of a stumbling child.

In our travel, we passed under the thick, arching branches of pine trees and stopped beside the bank of a clear stream. The water, as it ran over the rocks, was nearly invisible under the stars, betrayed only by the soft gurgle as it ran down its path. The air was cool and tense – spastic with rampant energy. And I could see by the way his eyes danced and shined, that Eragon was affected in the most acute ways.

The light of the stars brightened his muddy hair and gave a beautiful sheen to his new skin. Suddenly, his smile softened, and he looked between me and the sky. "How tall the trees, how bright the stars… and how beautiful you are, O Arya Svit-kona."

_No._ "Eragon…."

But he ignored the warning in my tone. "Arya, I'll do anything to win your hand. I would follow you to the ends of the earth. I would build you a palace with nothing by my bare hands. I would–"

"Will you stop pursuing me? Can you promise me that?" Parasites wrestled under my flesh, crawling and festering and nipping at my wounds. Eragon hesitated, not understanding – not realizing what he said – so I stepped closer. Low and gentle-like, calming a mare, I said, "Eragon, this cannot be. You are young, and I am old, and that shall never change."

"Do you feel nothing for me?"

"My feelings for you are those of a friend and nothing more." I fought a grimace. "I am grateful to you for rescuing me from Gil'ead, and I find your company pleasant. That is all… Relinquish this quest of yours – it will only bring you heartache – and find someone your own age to spend the long years with."

This hurt. Water filmed Eragon's eyes at such a strike. "How can you be so cruel?"

"I am not cruel but kind." Kind to spare him pain and suffering. "You and I are not meant for each other."

But it was not enough. "You could give me your memories, and then I would have the same amount of experience and knowledge as you."

"It would be an abomination." I lifted my chin, eyeing Eragon with steeled resolve. The sooner he understood his misplaced affections, the better off the whole of Alagaësia would be. "Hear me well, Eragon. This cannot, nor ever shall be. And until you master yourself, our friendship must cease to exist, for your emotions do nothing but distract us from our duty." I bowed, feeling wooden and stiff. "Goodbye, Eragon Shadeslayer." It was as with the fairth incident as I strode past him and into the shadows of the trees.

_Eragon, how could you do this to yourself?_ I sped through the forest, curving away from the Meona tree and taking in the quiet, lonely surroundings. Regret grumbled inside my chest, knowing I had likely caused this heartbreak through keeping him in the dark. But there were simply parts of the past I could never speak of again, even to the human Dragon Rider whom I decided I trusted.

Still to this day, I fought to see behind my eyes the tortures that did more than bruise and break my body – they tore me apart within.

"_He pitied you!" _

Crack.

_ "He never loved you!"_

Snap.

_Durza paused with the whip when at last he garnered a whimper of pain from me. I steeled my jaw to keep the sound from echoing, but his sharp ears caught the shredded note. Tensing for the next strike, it startled me when Durza placed his cold, rock fingers on my exposed back. _

_ His breath stung my ear; his nails cut into my shoulder blades. "How could he love _you_? You are worthless; you are beneath the dirt; your own mother disowned you – tossed you into a foreign world alone and alien."_

_ "I need no one," I hissed._

_ Durza trailed his fingers along the length of my spine, up and down, drawing strange patterns into my flesh with my blood. It ached where he touched, burned where he scrapped, sizzled where the whip struck. _

_ "_Lies_, and you best of all understand it…." His teeth grazed my jaw, eliciting a shudder from me. "You need no one because no one needs you; I've seen many of your fleeting memories – the ones you deem less important to guard. But they revel so much to me." He bit my neck, chuckling when I cried out in shock and pain. His teeth were sharp and powerful. "For instance," Durza moved away from my body, "you were so careful to guard yourself from heartbreak, so sure that your mate was true to his death, but he was safe – and you know this. There was nothing true about it. You have known it deep within yourself – no one wants broken Arya." _

**A/N: This scene is really tough….. Sorry if some of the writing is stiff – that tends to happen when I write a published scene through the POV of another character. Arya was everywhere O_o and I did not know how to fix it.**

** Also, if you should take anything from this plot-wise, the most important line in this chapter is the last one. **

** R&R please! I know people are busy given the time of the year, but I would love anything you say. Tell what you think needs improving; tell me what you want to happen as far as AxE goes (I really need to know the 'public's' general opinion of this); tell what you really like so far **

** *crosses fingers for 10 reviews***


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Hey guys…. Hope you like it **

"Stop that!"

Caden laughed, squirming as Pricilla twisted and purred under his chin. His hands grasped her body and pulled her down to a cradle against his chest, petting her black coat and scratching behind her sharp ears.

I watched from the chair the off look in his eyes Caden acquainted when the cat was 'speaking' to him. He wore a lazy smile – a pleasant contrast the grimace he wore two days ago.

Caden woke yesterday morning. I was resting, deep in sleep, when his startled scream hit me. Apparently, the cat wasted no time in engaging in conversation, and Caden thought he had died. And in that same moment, seeing me dive to his side, Caden blew our cover by calling me "Princess" in rapid succession.

Aleahma was strangely unsurprised, as was the cat.

"Are you alright?" Caden said, addressing me with bright eyes. "You seem tired as of late."

I shook my greasy head. "I am fine, Caden. I am only glad that you are doing well."

Caden nodded, about to say more, when Pricilla pawed the patch of muscle over his heart. His head tilted to the side and then he chuckled.

"What does she say to you," I inquired – my voice grating with irritation.

He shrugged. "Do not worry of it."

Aleahma walked through the door, carrying a brown sack on her hip. She frowned at Pricilla as she set down the sack by the door and walked to her cupboards where she slapped her palms against the wood. When she spoke, her tone was similar to mine: "Will you not tell even I? The girl, I understand – but _me_!" Aleahma slammed closed the cupboard door, and the wood splintered.

Pricilla leapt from Caden's arms to the edge of the bed. There, she stood and stared at Aleahma with intent.

_He is one of _them_._

I jumped in the seat.

Pricilla rolled her eyes at my surprise. _I would rather not speak to you, but it is practical for this to be said only once._ She lay down and licked at a paw.

"But that is nigh impossible." Aleahma glanced at Caden, whose brows stuck together and lips pursed in confusion. "How could you be so sure? For all you know, he simply has a talent."

_But he _is_ of the bloodline. He is a descendent of that very man. _Pricilla's tail flicked Caden's leg, and her head turned to look at him. _Your great grandfather Juarto crossed paths with a werecat two years before the Fall of the Riders while traveling from Terim to Illeria – now Urû'baen. The werecat was injured, having broken two of his legs, and on the brink of starvation. When many had passed him in fear of his myth and race, Jarto took him and nursed him back to his health. In return, the werecat gave him a gift. Because Jarto had restored his ability to walk, he was given the ability to move as werecat in the shadows._

_ The werecat left Jarto and his family. In the course of the next two years, his wife gave birth to two children – both of which were handed the respective ability. Your grandfather managed to survive through the bloodshed of the Fall of the Riders due to his father's ability of avoiding danger and lived long enough to have a child with your grandmother – your father – who then lived on long enough to have you, and _you_ carry the ability._

Caden frowned, and I noticed his fingers shaking.

Pricilla meowed, taking quick, responsive steps forward, and rubbed her head against his hands. He pulled away, though, staring at the cat with an uncertain plea.

They seemed caught in another 'conversation' when I realized Pricilla locked her thoughts away once more. It irked me that I did not know why she disliked me so, but there was little to be done about it.

Aleahma said, "It was Pricilla's descendent Jarto saved." She looked at me.

"What does she mean by ability, though? And why would he have never known himself?"

"'Tis something only the future can tell us, child." A far-off look spread into her eyes for a moment. "Perhaps…." Aleahma opened the cupboards and rummaged through them, pulling out a brown bag with drawstrings. She held it in her hands, staring at it with uncertainty, and opened the strings, spilling its contents out onto the wood counter. Smooth bones, each antique white and slightly longer than a finger, clattered into a pile.

"What are those?"

Aleahma touched them reverently. "These are the true method of seeing the future – dragon bones."

"Fortunetelling," I gasped. Mother had often raged at the works of witches and fortunetellers, calling them the ugliest of names and insulting their practices.

"Aye." The herbalist smiled at the bones and then sighed. "Perhaps this would be the wrong gift to offer–"

"I could never take those from you!" I protested, feeling a slight queasy at the thought.

Aleahma frowned at me. "I never said I was giving them to you; my gift is to _cast_ them for you, foretell your future, should you accept."

"Oh." _To know one's future can be a terrible burden._ I struggled for a moment, shoving away the voice of mother that shouted in my mind. Edrolph would have laughed at the herbalist, and the sound haunted me. "Why would you offer this to me?" It seemed Caden was the proper recipient.

Aleahma brushed a bone with a gentle grace. "I should not be so curious. But – as is my nature – I cannot help myself. You do not have to accept, but it would be the safest route to sate the curiosity."

I about said _Pardon_, but held off.

She sighed. "I offer because, while she may not like you, Pricilla _has_ spoken with you – she sought you out, even. And, like my sisters, I cannot but help wonder how you shall fare in your quest."

"The cat sought out Caden, not I."

"She found the both of you."

"But she does not like me; she connects with Caden – offer this to him."

With a rude jerk, Aleahma sat her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes in such a way I felt involuntary shivers slither down my spine.

"I shall do it," I said, and the eyes went away.

She took the bones into her hands and motioned for me to sit. "Let us seen, then, what fate has in store for you." Then her eyes closed, her stance softened. She mouthed phrases under her breath and then said with power, "_Manin! Wydra! Hugin!" _

The bones fell from her fingers and landed in a jumbled mass that resembled flattened hay straws. Aleahma took a deep breath before she opened her eyes and leaned close to the bones, studying them in the weak light.

I watched her lips jerk from a faint smile to strange frown, her hands flutter as she read. Caden gathered Pricilla into his arms and petted her as apprehension tensed his healing body. He glanced at me as the minutes stretched, a wary twist to his mouth.

"_Ah!_" Aleahma leaned back, clasping her hands together.

"What is it?"

She glared at me. "A lack of patience is also attributed to a child."

I held back a snarl and moved closer to the bone pile. Aleahma sighed, pointing at particular symbols shown upon the bones. "While not the easiest of futures to foretell, it is not impossible to read or understand. Here," her finger indicated the joint of a bone poking from the bottom of the jumble; wrought upon it was a tangle of paths, "signifies the many decisions you will be forced to make in your lifetime."

_ That cannot be too bad_.

"See the bone touching it? That would be a flower pair consisting of a calendula flower planted beside a cyclamen. This means that whichever path you choose, there will be a great loss at the end of it. Whether this is someone you care for or a sorrowful event that affects the whole land, however, is not certain."

_I should not think so quickly_, I thought with a growing dread.

Aleahma's fingers hovered over another bone. It was another flower symbol, consisting of a single bloom of bunched petals. Behind it was the crest of a moon. "From what has been said, this symbol has begun to show less in many futures. It was included in my own casting, so I know for certain what it means: the peony flower tells of a happy marriage in your years, one that is strong and true and will last forevermore. Unfortunately, as you can see," she directed my attention to the length of a bone that flowed beneath the peony flower, "this sweet symbol is made uncertain through the man's choices and…" she squinted for a moment at the bone, "and a future betrayal. Although….hm…it seems it may be a _past_ betrayal – but I cannot remember whether past or future is represented by that left-pointed thorn…." The herbalist became lost in her rambles for a moment while my thoughts took rapid flight.

Edrolph would come for me, then? Or was this happy marriage to come from another man? I still felt sick at the thought of Edrolph and I wedded, but it had been the end image of my life for the past few years that it was hard to image me a wife to anyone else. And _betrayal_? Was that because I ran from him, essentially cried off and left him to a surmount of embarrassment?

"This bone of vines and thorns runs beneath most all of the others," Aleahma continued. "Your life will be that of tears, in which I would assume both of sorrow and joy. The man you marry, should the both of you choose the respective paths, will be of great power and influence and is looked up to by those he befriends. The aspen tree here indicates a normal life span, a common symbol for many. And, as for the last symbol… the book indicates changing knowledge. In most fortunes, this means you will become learned of a new skill or perhaps become more aware of the world around you. Regardless of which, it will be a prominent section of your life that seems to be the only bone not affected by the winding vines and thorns."

I sighed inwardly, unsure of how I felt about this. Change was welcomed, but if I did not tread well, I would fall into an endless depth of misery. And, if I took full in heart the dragon bones' fortune, no matter the path I attempted to follow, I would lose something. The most I could comprehend was I would have to be careful to choose the least painful road.

_The least painful would be to return to Mother and claim insanity._

I shuddered.

"Princess, are you alright?" Caden asked. He sat with the cat still in is arms, but he appeared as if he had just arrived.

Aleahma gave Pricilla a pointed look. "I need not to look through these bones to know that if he continues to call you such, misfortune shall become your lover."

I nodded and frowned at a confused Caden.

"Read the dragon bones, Aleahma; you said you would." Anxiety crossed his face.

"Pricilla held his attention quite intently while I explained the dragon bones," Aleahma explained, ignoring Caden. "He knows nothing of the possibilities of your future, as it should be."

Understanding fell upon him, and Caden quickly apologized.

_I discussed with him the nature of his departure,_ Pricilla said. _Given his rapid healing, I think 'twould be well to leave early in the next morning. By that time, horses may be purchased and food found._

My nerves began playing like the harp, only in flat, nasty-tuned notes. I had little appreciation of the cat suddenly taking command of my journey. "Caden and I are perfectly capable of deciding when it is expedient that we leave."

Pricilla cocked her head to the side and blinked her wide eyes at me. _There is no need for you to decide with Caden when I have already done so. Why waste the time?_

"Why should it matter to you, werecat?"

She growled softly, the fine hairs along her back arching. _Beware your tone, Fool. _She lunged to the ground, hissing and showing a dangerous set of teeth. I backed up into the chair and fell with a _humph_. Pricilla jumped onto my lap, her hiss calming till it stopped. _It matters because I will be accompanying you to the Varden._

"I should think not!" I tried shoving Pricilla off me, only to have her nip my fingers and growl.

'_Twas decided without your consent._

I shot an irritated glare at Caden. "Did you agree to this?"

But he was unrepentant. "She can help us," Caden said with a steel brow. "Who better than a werecat to help us save that village?"

"We are going to the Dragon Rider."

"He has the entire rebellion on his hands."

"Would not you say the village is just as important?"

"It ought to be, but I will not waste judgment on a man I have not met."

_I am willing to help, young one. Rarely are humans to fortunate so as to have the assistance of my kind._ Pricilla leaped the distance in one bound from my lap to the bed and crawled into Caden's arms.

During the argument, Aleahma had tucked away the dragon bones and fumbled with herb bags. She wore a hard expression, one I could not read so as to determine whether Pricilla spoke to her as well. "What of Aleahma? Would you abandon her?"

"'Tis Pricilla's decision, not mine," Aleahma said.

"Will you not come with us?" Caden inquired with kind eyes.

Aleahma seemed to be struggling to hold something back. Her brow twitched, and her jaw clenched. She set her herbs on the wooden counter and pushed quivering fingers into her voluminous, scrunched hair. "Nay, I will not. Curiosity is a silent killer and has taken from me more than I care to count. If not more, I know Angela – if she is not already – will be there at the rebellion to sate such a gruesome beast, and I am not, nor will I even be, prepared to face her again. Pricilla, however, is free to do as she wishes. She only stayed with me as long as she has because nothing but you has caught her interest in decades."

Caden hugged Pricilla close like she was whispering into his ear. "I do not wish to leave you with nothing."

"Oh, _bah_." Aleahma waved him off. "You would not say that if you truly knew me – which, of course, you do not."

"Then Caden, let us find supplies for our journey," I said, motioning him to come out the door.

He nodded, setting Pricilla aside despite her irritated meows, and managed to stand on two feet. When I asked if he felt well enough to walk, he grunted at the comment and replied, "I shall be fine." Pricilla swashed her tail and leapt towards the door. Caden, however, shook his head at her. "You need to stay with Aleahma if you truly mean to join us."

Pricilla stuck her chin up with pride threw her head to the side in defiance. But, after a minute, she relaxed and returned to the bed.

As we began to leave, Aleahma pulled another brown bag from her cupboard and threw it at me. It landed in my hands with a soft jingle, and I realized it was coins. Caden chuckled at my puzzled expression. Money had never been an issue as Mother and Father has always granted me whatever I wished for.

It was noon day about Dras-Leona, and the narrow streets were cramped with travelers and citizens. For a moment, I felt a twinge of self-consciousness walking into such a crowd with ruined, greasy hair that shined much brighter than a coin and a dress stiff with dirt, sweat, and worn in use. Caden, though, did not seem misplaced in his scratchy, dirty outfit that added to the rancid scent we both created – the scent that permeated from most bodies we passed.

"May I see the bag?" Caden requested.

I answered by handing it to him.

He peeked at the coins within and a curious, wary look crossed his face. "Aleahma is a strange character."

"Aye."

Caden fisted the bag in his hand, bracing his body for the men that shoulder their way through the crowd. Once, he paused a man and asked specific directions to a horse trader, and then took my arm to lead us to east side of Dras-Leona.

In the back of my mind, I wondered if we would see Hvard, Tassi, or Urea as we walked. A patch of guilt was like mold inside my chest at the thought of them believing we had abandoned them. I had felt a strange peace with those people.

Caden seemed to fall grim as the time lengthened. He frowned, and at times, he looked almost angry. Aleahma's prophecy rung in my mind of a past betrayal affecting my future but shook the thought away quickly. _It was not a betrayal; it was a needed lie to aid in my escape. As such, we are not even friends_….

"What shall I call you?" Caden asked suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"Aleahma was correct; I am too used in the habit of calling you… you know…. I need to know what you are comfortable with me calling you – both here and when we do not have to hide." He kept his eyes straight forward, the grimness still lingering in his tone.

I was indifferent. "Gwendolyn."

"Gwendolyn." He said it in a curious manner, testing it upon his lips. A hint of a small smile twitched his mouth. "'Tis musical – like yourself."

I blinked, surprise blooming within. Never had anyone made such a connection, but I liked it. "Aye."

Silence lingered, and instead I focused on our surroundings. The houses remained stacks of brown twigs, awkwardly placed, and filled with beady faces that seemed to threaten. We passed a yellowish muddied building that appeared to be a religious edifice of some kind. Even passing outside its walls, ugly energy fumed from it. Caden felt it too, and stepped closer to me, sneering from the effect.

"Lovely city," Caden said with a sour bite.

"Not in the likes of my home."

Out of the corner of my eye, Caden flinched and a twist crooked his frown so that it appeared worried.

The Horse Trader was a full bearded man with a wide, buttery smile. Sweat dirtied his brow, and the stench of horse manure and hay wafted from him the same as it did the horses he sold. Caden and the man reverted into a very slurred form of language that I found hard to follow. It was like they cut out any direct, hard sounds and combined all the softer and more discreet to the point it was another tongue entirely.

_Caden has not had a moment's frustration with the various dialects – even my own_, I realized. _How…?_

Caden took out the coins and showed a pile of gleaming gold. The sight made me gasp, and the sound startled the trader. He frowned at Caden, who spent the next many words trying to calm him and forcing a gentle chuckle. Caden then put his arm around my shoulder, pulled me close, and kissed my temple.

"Wh' 'on' ye go off while the men 'al'?"

I frowned, confused. Caden gave me a push and motioned for me to walk away, shaking his head with an amused smile at the Horse Trader.

Tripping slightly on my dress, I stuttered over to the side of one of the shacks. There was a sliver of shade there to cool my hot skin. I glanced back to Caden and saw the bearded man leading him into the stables – a shackle of a building I wondered would ever feel its duty as shelter.

My legs were sore from the walking, begging to bend into a sit. I hesitated, though, noticing the dusty quality of the dirt. _I am already filthy; what is one layer more?_ My eyes rolled at such a thought, and I sat down, careful to tuck my legs underneath me.

Not too many feet before me was a black beetle scurrying across the wide, sunny expanse that separated it from an abandoned box. To it, I supposed, the beetle was braving across a flat, ominous desert that could mean certain death. A bird could pray upon it, or a larger insect. Strangely, I recognized, the beetle and I had something in common. Was I not braving across a desert of unknowns? True, I had a companion by my side – one with whom I was becoming familiar with – but there were many times I felt utterly alone. I thought more times than I liked about what I left behind and what I burdened upon myself. But then I remembered that Gwendolyn – the person, not the princess or magical voice – was important to me, and I refused to let her fade away, crushed under the wills of my parents and beaux.

Pulling my knees up to my chest, I sighed and watched the beetle as it neared the shade. It was then I noticed a bulky mass pushed up against the inside of the box the insect seemed to be headed to. No sooner than I saw it, the creature lurched from its hiding place and snapped a thick tail at the beetle. In an instant, the beetle's body was punctured through with the scorpion's devil-licked tail tip and devoured by its predator.

I adverted my eyes, feeling a little sick that I had just connected myself with an insect that fell prey quickly to such an awesome predator. _Whichever path you choose, there will be a great loss at the end of it…_ had said Aleahma. But I shook away the chills. Aleahma was a crazy, old woman who had the mental health of the potions she made. Silly predictions – that was all they were.

"Goo' af'ernoon, miss." A tilted voice came from above – much too deep to be that of Caden's. Someone chuckled.

I looked up and twisted my neck behind me to see two men towering over my hunched figure. The stench of farm filth and mead soaked their bodies and intensified in the heat of the day. "Pardon, sirs, am I in your way?"

Both men burst into a boisterous bellow that tossed the fat in their bellies like jelly. The closest man to me – dressed in dark clothes and face hidden behind a mass of black hair – addressed his friend. "She wan's 'o know if we be in _her_ way!" His facial hair lifted, and I assumed him to be grinning at me. "Wha' a fancy lo' ye be; stan' an' 'urn yer bo'y 'o me!"

I did not process the words fast enough for his taste. The man grasped my arm in his large, sausage hand and wrenched me to my feet. They laughed when I stumbled to regain my balance. "Please, sirs, be on your way. I mean you no harm."

The second man winked behind bushy eyebrows. "She be a fancy lo' indee'! Think she be of the noble cour's?"

"Impossible! Loo' how she be 'ressed!"

The man was not using most of his strength to hold me, and so I managed to release my arm and turn my back to them. There words made little sense to me, but they made my skin crawl nonetheless. I looked to the stable where Caden had yet to emerge.

"She coul' be pre'endin'," one suggested.

The other seemed to consider the idea – and like it. His arm snaked around my waist and threw me away from the sight of the stable.

Something caught in my throat, and I was oddly reminded of Edrolph as I watched the two men advance on me. I stumbled to my feet, trying to round the corner of a shack, but my dress flung under my feet, and I somersaulted in the dust dirt.

Large hands grasped my shoulders and lifted me into the air. Though I was not considerably short, the men had no trouble dangling me where I could not stand.

"Be ye one of the noble houses?"

"N-n-no…!" My jaw trembled.

The man with tent-brows continued encouraging his friend, rumbling his fists together like a starved wanderer. "'ourse she be lyin'! She be spea'in' jus' li'e 'em."

The hairier man's dark eyes – brown as the mud after vicious rain storms – pinched inward. "Why be ye 'resse' this way? Seems the ac' o' folly 'o me!"

I struggled, but when I thought I had managed to release myself, my captor changed his holding position, squishing my arms against my sides – like I was a doll rather than a human.

"Perha's we shoul' 'eep ye for a bi' an' see who comes loo'in' for ye?"

Whatever they were saying, I knew from the pit bubbling in my stomach it was far from good. I kicked at the air, but the man held me too far off to hit him.

Suddenly, my captor's chin jerked up in an angle. A fist grazed his face, pulled back, and then hit again.

I was dropped only for another pair of arms to come around me. However, these were gentler, and they were familiar to me. Caden did not look to me, teeth clenched and face twisted in utter rage at the two men. He lifted us to our feet, ready to sprint around the shack, when the encouraging man quickly blocked our path.

"An' who jus' migh' ye be?"

"Her husban'."

The hairy man eyed Caden as if he did not believe him. "Yer nothin' more than a worthless s'ree' ra'! She be beau'y in disguise."

Fear clenched my heart; worry gnawed my fried nerves. _Would misfortune continue to stalk us?_

"Says who?" Caden spat. "The blubberin' idiot who can' tell his foot from his han'?"

The man growled and reached to hit Caden.

Caden dropped us to the ground, and the man's heavy fist pounded on the shack's wall, shuddering the structure. We rolled back towards the stable and leapt to our feet, Caden securing a firm hold around my waist. Then he pushed us into a sprint down the street and towards the crowds of the city.

When we slowed, Caden growled under his breath, and his hold remained strong and stiff. The people we passed gave us a wide berth, eyeing my friend with a slight look of fear and defense. "Caden, are we alright now?"

He ceased growling and spared me a pitiful look. "My apologies, madam, for I am simply… frustrated."

_More than simply…._ I thought to myself. But we remained quiet until we neared Aleahma's shack. That was when Caden stopped us and frowned at me. A burden weighed down his shoulders, and the exertion of the last few hours drained all his energy. His arm fell from my waist and replaced with his hand on my shoulder. He gave a gentle push, holding me against the uneven wall of a shack.

"Promise me, Gwendolyn, that you will not allow this incident to begin the foundation of your opinion of the people." The green in his eyes were dark with depth and desperation, which seemed to spark when I remained quiet. "_Promise me_."

My innards were still shaken up; half of me I worried had not realized the unpleasant occurrence even took place. But I felt an abrupt rise of anger at Caden – he was worried for the balance of my opinion and not how I fared after. "I cannot promise that which I cannot give."

Caden glared, and his hand – at first soft and aware – now hardened and pinched. "'Tis not fair that you should! Those men were drunk, Gwendolyn; they were not thinking straight. The moment they sobered, they would have returned you without harm. You cannot base the moralities of a whole race over the actions of two men!"

"It has been more than two men, Caden!"

His hand loosening just the slightest was the only sigh of surprise he gave.

"If you do not remember, Celeste and Kvithar turned on their good moralities for the sake of money and well-being. They were not royals. When you were at the brink of death, Aleahma refused to offer her assistance to you for the sake of not interfering. And where are those horses we were to purchase? I have little hope that we are to retrieve them if you left them behind."

Caden and I locked stern, stubborn gazes. My shoulder began to burn with hurt, but I ignored the pain in an attempt to prove to Caden I was not a naive child.

When he spoke again, Caden's voice was gruff and slicing. "And what of your precious royal houses? Are they so perfect? Are they so wonderful their complexions glow and the gods sing praises to them?"

"You know nothing of them – less than I do your people."

"My people _are_ your people," Caden snapped. "Wealth and power do not change that."

The bone of my jaw tightened.

"And, quite the contrary, I know more about the nobles and their inner circles than you ever dared dream of, darling." His eyes rolled when I snarled at his disrespect.

"Caden," I said with warning.

But he ignored it. "We seem to be at parting ways, Princess. Perhaps it _is_ best your return to your precious father and fiancé. The outside world has proven too much for your fragile, perfect soul."

Caden spoke with vicious teeth, the bite so sharp the anger fled from my body to be replaced with intense pain. It wrestled inside me against venomous pride, tearing my innards in two and squeezing my heart.

"_Go away_," I whispered with power.

Caden's body obeyed immediately, putting a wide space between us. When his feet stopped, his face darkened, hands fisting at his side. Without another word, he turned towards Aleahma's and stalked off.

**A/N: Not sure if that counts as a cliffy or not, but if you want to truly find out what happens next, I need at least 6 reviews**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed in the lack of reviews. I'm trying not to become one of those authors who hold their chapters hostage for reviews, but I feel a little like I'm pulling some teeth to get the reviews I need. For the four who regularly review, you are freakin' amazing! I love looking at my iPod and seeing by the mail pic even a 1 by it that means I got a review, and you boost up my writing confidence. **

**Sorry this is short. I have no time to write this week, so I figured I put this up now, and they next section of the story doesn't really flow well with this chappy anyway.**

"_Why are you so muddy?" I scrutinized the dark brown patches that were partly dried on his skin, tunic, and pants. _

_ "Why are you so clean?" Murtagh sneered. _

_ I straightened my back, posing my height with grace. "I am a lady, and a lady does not trifle her time with silly games."_

_ Murtagh wiggle his eye brows and chuckled. "At least I have fun."_

_ "Where is the fun in _that_?" I motioned toward the mud pit that had accumulated during the rainstorm. _

_ He shrugged. _

_ "But then what was the point in it?"_

_ Murtagh glared then, something I said having rubbed him the wrong way. "You used to be fun to be around; now all you can do is repeat every syllable the nobles berate me with."_

_ "But they are right, Murtagh. You are ten and six years old. Should not at least _act_ mature?"_

_ He grunted, looking away. "I care not to be what I am not – the same should be for you."_

_ "I am who I am – a lady, nay… Princess of Urû'baen. And you would do well to show this castle respect."_

_ A lone breeze ran through the gardens, lifting wisps of Murtagh's dark hair. In the warm sunlight, his hair caught the hue of vermillion red – a color that mixed with his eyes. "Then what shall you do with me? Order me that I should do as you wish, O' Princess?"_

_ I ignored the jab at my ability and crossed my arms firmly over my chest. "I wish for you to realize your place in the world, Murtagh. You are like family to me; I do not enjoy seeing you so distraught." _

_ Murtagh scoffed, though there was a hint of softening to his glare. "Once again, you sound like your father. I do not wish to 'realize my place' if it means for me to loose myself."_

_ I chuckled, a smile pulling at my lips. "You would find yourself once you found your place. I have."_

_ He hardened, fists clenching. "You… I…." He growled deep in his chest. _

_ "What is it?" _

_ But Murtagh shook his head. "To them, you are a pawn, and they mold you to their prowess."_

_ "Do not be so silly, Murtagh. I am myself as always," I assured him, though I took no steps nearer to his dirty body. "Who is the one muddied like a child and the one dressed as a confident individual?"_

_ Murtagh smirked. "I am both."_

Baking sunlight rolled off its heat in waves. As the intensity of the day hour reached its climax, shade became limited. Pride kept me from sulking after Caden, so I remained outside. Eventually, I walked in the direction of the traveler's camp.

_He was wrong… he has to be…._ But uncertainty itched under my flesh. Perhaps I had been too harsh with my words.

Someone grabbed my shoulders, halting me suddenly in my mindless path. Immediately, it seemed, my body began to tremble with fear and worry as if it knew pain was close.

"Jezebel, where be yer mind?"

My eyes focused, and I looked up.

Hvard.

He dropped his hands and put space between us, narrowing his eyes with suspicion.

"Pardon?" I said without much thought, and then bit my tongue.

"Ye were about to walk righ' into tha' there pos'." Hvard frowned. "Where be… Ashter… err… Caden?"

I grimaced. _He has separated from me._ In an odd way, I felt a horrible sensation of loneliness eat inside my chest. Caden guided me, and he had severed that connected. Now I floated as drift wood upon the raging seas. But it took me a moment to remember Hvard did not know Caden had survived the stab wound. "He fares well enough. No longer is he endanger of falling to the Void." My voice came out rather raspy, grating against the lump in my throat.

Hvard gave a terse nod and turned away.

I had walked myself to the traveler's awning where the rest of the company had settled beneath the shade. Tassi and Urea sat up on the cart that had housed Caden (Aleahma and I had returned it as Caden slept when the others had not been around) fiddling with objects in their practiced hands. I glanced down at mine – cracked, blistered, sweaty, and brown – and felt another urge to weep away my haggard emotions. But I held the tears off, knowing it would truly do me no good.

Urea noticed me from the cart and smiled. "There you are. I was beginnin' to worry. Come now, come now!" She motioned with her forearm and an encouraging smile. "I believe my ears overheard you sayin' your husband shall live an' yet you look as if he has died. Why such a frown?"

I moved with quiet steps to the side of the cart, attempting to arrange myself so that my distress did not appear so obvious.

Tassi's fingers looped and pulled about a long needle-like instrument and gray yarn as she grinned a knowing smile. "The two of ye had an argument of sorts, did ye not?"

Her precision hit so close, the surprise that hit my face gave the women the answer they needed.

"'Tis a natural occurrence," Urea said. "Marriage would be no marriage if not for the occasional disagreement."

"We are all but human," Tassi agreed.

Despite knowing Caden and I were not wedded, my question spilled from my lips before I could think on it. "But how can you truly love someone if you have no trouble being angry with them?"

Both women laughed – not in a mocking tone but rather amused. It was Tassi who managed to answer. "If marriage be a conjoinin' of two perfect beings, there would be no weddin's. Hvard and I have fought more times than I care count – in teasin' and in rage. But he is my bes' friend an' I love him no matter how many times I get angry a' him." Her words, though sweet and from the heart, settled as a strange mush in the pit of my stomach.

_"Remember, Gwendolyn," said Mother as she sat me on her lap in view of her vanity mirror, "when you are married, you must do your upmost to please your husband. He will do much for you, providing you a home, clothes, servants, and other necessities. He will be an important man, so do well not to bring stress into his life. Give him whatever he asks of you. It is our duty as wives and women to please the men in our lives."_

This was marriage to me – perfection. What Tassi suggested seemed forever fated to mold and rust. I sighed, pressed my fingertips into my temple to appease the headache.

"Speak with him," Urea said. "'Tis far better than allowin' the cauldron to boil."

I nodded, if only to appease them. They did not offer more and focused again at the yarn and needles in their hands.

It was then the shadow of Hvard casted over me. "Will ye be headin' with us in a week's time?" Though he said the words in a calm manner, a part of me wondered if his words came from another mouth.

I peeked up at him, feeling small as I shook my head. "Nay, for we depart in the morning."

Hvard's busy brows scrunched up. "Be tha' so? In a hurry are ye? What yet became of yer bloom' sister? Did she give birth to a healthy babe?"

I blinked, stuttering over my thoughts. "Blooming… sister?"

Hvard glared and stalked off. His footsteps vibrated through the ground. I looked after in hopeless confusion.

Tassi sighed and climbed from the cart. "I shall speak with him."

But I touched her shoulder. "Please forgive me. I did not mean to upset him."

She did not look at me but said, "Urea and I have decided to trust ye in part, but it is hard for Hvard to do so given what han' he was dealt with in his past. Tread carefully in yer journey, whatev'r yer goal may be. But 'tis best for now that we part ways."

I took my hand back slowly. "Aye."

Urea waved a small goodbye, her smile a tad off. I had a feeling they had discussed Caden and I in length, but what exactly that meant, I could only guess.

I loathed walking back into the winking sunlight but to remain increased the negative emotions growing like fungus in the bowels of my body. Though I did not know Hvard, Tassi, or Urea well, I found that I did not like ruining their trust. It was something I had only ever felt in regards to my mother and perhaps Murtagh. And… Caden.

I did not want to think of him. I was not sure _what_ to think of him. Surely, he meant not to leave me on my own. He knew better than most my inability to survive in this cruel, outside world.

_Cruel_…. Caden did not want me to believe his world was _cruel_. I sighed, turning back into the narrow alley way of our fight. _Maybe he was right. _

I turned over the thought in my mind, peering at its every angle and scrutinizing its every move. If this world was not cruel, then why had I little peace of heart? Was I too afraid? Hvard and his wife had no trouble showing us courtesy, and Tassi and Urea helped Caden when he was mortally wounded. They were not bad. But, if I twisted the view around, I could not judge the people based on three humans _good_ acts. 'Twas no more logical than its opposite – the view Caden accused me of seeing.

_Ugh._

If anything, I knew Urû'baen was not my next destination. I could not return. I could not bear it. The humiliation would be insufferable.

Sweat pooled along my hair line, and I wiped it away. Unfortunately, I only accomplished in smudging more dirt into my skin. I leaned against the shack wall, wondering what needed to be done next (if Caden would not take me to the Varden, I would have to fashion another means of travel), when I heard the faint, ghost-like wisps of footsteps – footsteps of either a small, light animal or Caden.

"Gwen." Caden's lean form rushed into the alley to where I stood, his brow furrowing with worry. "Have… you not moved from this spot?"

I shook my head but pursed my lips closed.

"I came to find you. I should not have left you as I did. Aleahma nearly cooked my hide to hear that we had argued – I feared for my life!" He smiled slightly, as if expecting for me to smile or giggle in response. But I held a straight face. Caden frowned, exhaling a long, tired breath. "My apologies, Gwendolyn, for my harsh words. I have been so grief ridden for my family and driven to insanity for the safety of that village that I neglected to assist you with your own fears and concerns. I have not been a proper friend to thee, and for that I ask for thy forgiveness."

A part of me wanted to remain angry with him, to make him earn such forgiveness. Yet I was tired of such emotion, and I could not help but walk into his arms. Caden pulled me into a loose embrace, chuckling to release nervous tension.

"Before I forgive you," I said, "forgive me for forgetting that there is both good and bad in the world. I wish I could understand all of that which I see, but I cannot. Everything is so different."

Caden's hold tightened, and I was shocked to feel his cheek press against my hair. "Our worlds are not so different as you seem to believe. Both you and I have hearts to feel, eyes to see, and minds to comprehend with. We are human, not elf and dwarf."

"Am I the dwarf?"

He laughed – the sound jovial and light. But his response was serious and so quiet, I wondered if I heard him at all. "Nay, you are of the fair folk…."

I stiffened, though I did not know why.

Caden loosed his hold around me, leaning back to look at me. His grin seemed unsure but his eyes were decided – warm, liquid emerald. His right hand then slid up the length of my torso, my throat, and cupped my cheek. Caden's grin twitched

I flinched away from his hand. "Did you tell Aleahma about the horses?"

Caden stepped back, dropping his arms. "Aye. There is not much we can do. We will simply have to walk."

I grimaced, and my legs throbbed in protest. "That cat still insists in following us?"

Caden nodded. "Aye, and she says that she can take care of our horse issue, though I have not the slightest idea how. So I am prepared for many weeks of walking."

"What of food?"

Caden said, "If we follow the shore of Leona Lake, there will be plants and animals that we can eat. Should it prove necessary, though, would you be willing to… use your voice?"

"I-I… if it is absolutely necessary." I sighed. Singing to plants was not an area of my ability that I cared to become proficient in.

Caden dipped his head in agreement. For a moment, we were quiet, peeking short glances at each other and looking away when we connected. It puzzled me that I felt so shy with him in this moment. And it was shyness – of him, rather than using him as a wall of sorts from people. But it could not bode well for us. Such things led to the image of Edrolph and me, led to where I become uncomfortable in his presence and sick when he touched me. The thought made me flinch inwardly.

This was why when Caden reached out to brush the back of his hand against mine, asking silent permission to hold it, I pulled my hand back and clasped it in my other. "Are we well?" I inquired.

He frowned a moment, but then his mouth evened out, and he nodded. "Aye, we are well."

**A/N: Please review! **


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Not sure what to say about this chapter. **

**I'm gonna be gone next week, so I would love to come back and see lots of feedback from you wonderful people :-) (It'll be really helpful since I've hit a bump in the inspiration road; I might run into writer's block soon, but idk)**

Though we no longer brought up the incident, a tension still lingered like the red, festered skin of a healing wound. It itched, but we no not how to scratch it. Or rather… I did not know, and Caden did not seem to realize it.

When we had walked back to Aleahma's dilapidated shack, Pricilla jumped from the shadows of nowhere and pounced Caden's chest. Then we looked to see Aleahma leading a horse towards us from around back. A squeamish nudge of my stomach warned me not to ask how she came about it.

Caden asked, however, and the woman replied with a dismissive wave of her thin hand and an exasperated, "I only care to say that the soldiers will not be after you for theft. Does that satisfy you?"

No.

But I said nothing.

That night, I had caught Caden twice glancing at me, a deep, swimming glint in his eye I could not decipher. I supposed finally that he thought of our disagreement.

When we left the next morning, Caden insisted we keep up the pretense that we were husband and wife and so made a point to touch my arm or waist as we left Dras-Leona. I was conflicted about this, the necessity of it. But I did not argue. Somehow these small touches warmed me the same as Mother's when I was upset as a child – like someone cared. And then it scared me. Had I become so used to Caden handling me gently that I did not want it to change?

My thoughts became so preoccupied that I jumped when soldiers gathered at entrance waved their good fortune at us as we turned south onto a path that followed the Leona Lake. Caden and I saddled onto our beast of a horse, though it was a strange seating arrangement. My dress attire made it near impossible to straddle my legs without my skirt bunching up close to my hips. So I sat sideways, throwing my legs over the left side of the horse and keeping tight hold of Caden.

The horse Aleahma had given to us was sturdy and appeared to have no qualms carrying the two of us on his back. I wondered for a brief moment if she had tampered with the animal to give its strength and size. But I shook the thought away, unable to comprehend it.

If Pricilla disliked me in Dras-Leona, she now loathed me. Though Caden had his arms around my waist, the cat made a point out of sitting between his torso and my side. Her eyes were wide and (I daresay) kind when looking at Caden, but they pinched into narrow slits when turned on me. What I ever did to her, only the gods knew. But I did nothing to better the situation.

Leona Lake smelt fresh in my nose, crisp and green. Its waters were clear, showing the rock bed that cradled the mass of water. Rocks of every and any size settled beneath the surface, peeked above it like stepping stones, or towered above it like a mock cliff. The ground nearest the water was sandy and muddy, and the path the horse clopped on was a more solid dirt mixture.

Caden chuckled behind me, but he said nothing. I looked down to see Pricilla running her paws over his stomach; Caden was ticklish.

A sudden wrath gripped me. Without thinking, I grabbed Pricilla and pushed her down to a laying position in front of me. The cat hissed and screeched.

"Gwen! She was fine where she was!" Caden half-growled. His tone made me stiffen. Not caring to wait for a response, Caden bent around me wrapped his hands over mine over Pricilla. "Let go, Gwen. She was doing no harm."

My cheeks were aflame. I could not find my voice. But my fingers ignored Caden, tightening, instead, their hold on Pricilla's gleaming black fur. Given Caden's bent position, he had to look up at me a short distance. He glared with hot green eyes. I was trapped between his arms.

We stared at each other, neither willing to relent their hold on the hissing cat. Finally, however, Caden seemed to realize getting mad at me was working against him. His brow smoothed out, the lines of his mouth evened. Then the pads of his thumb began to rub small circles into the back of my hand. "Just let her go…."

And I did. Though I felt as if I would start to hiss as well. There was no excuse for my behavior. I could not explain it, only that I was frustrated.

Caden cradled the cat against his chest, eyeing me with a bent brow and puzzled frown. The gems in his eyes had cooled but rippled like the lake, and I knew he was thinking. He returned an arm around my waist to steady me as the horse clopped along the path without so much as a lost beat. I could feel the beast's strong muscles under my legs despite the sour ache I was developing.

Silence prevailed a short victory. I knew not what to say, and Caden seemed deep in a conversation with Pricilla within their minds.

Caden reached for the reigns beside me and pulled the horse to a stop. Ignoring my confused look, he swung himself off the horse (Pricilla leaping to the ground) and held out his arms to assist me. I was wary, still frozen and disconcerted. My hands gripped the side of my dress. But I sighed. _Oh… enough already!_ I nodded to Caden and slid my waist into his hands.

On the ground, I stood nearly the height of Caden, the top of my head level with his brow. He dropped his hands and grabbed the horse reigns. Because we traveled across the plains, trees were not plentiful. The land was grassy, the green color of the grass lightening the farther east it grew. But near the lake there was a sturdy, curved-shaped tree with the leafy top of a thatched roof. Caden tied the horse's reigns there, and the animal stepped beside the lake shore and bent its head to drink.

"Why do we stop?" I inquired, looking to the sun crowned high in the sky.

Caden shrugged. "This is a vast lake and… well, I wanted to bathe." He frowned when my face screwed and twisted. Too many thoughts, too many implications stung me, and the embarrassment returned with a vengeance.

I opened my mouth to speak, but only a spew of stuttered "I"s and "Uh"s managed to tumbled from my lips.

_Bathe?_ In the lake?

And, if not worse, I was more confused and disgusted that I was not sure if I had a problem with that. To be clean again…. It sounded _so_ nice.

"Gwendolyn?" Caden was suddenly beside me, taking my upper arms in a gentle grip. "Are you alright? You nearly fainted." He chuckled at the thought.

And then I realized Caden wanted to bathe as well.

"Caden, that is the epitome of inappropriate!" I gasped and struggled in his grasp.

He did not fight me, but his hands flew from me as if I had shocked him. "Do you still think of me that way?" I looked up and saw the break in Caden's eyes. But he shook his head, and the glimpse of pain fled. Instead, he pointed to a boulder that cut into the lake form the shore line. "I was going to suggest we separate on either side of that rock – to maintain _both_ our modesties."

I heard the words behind the frustration: _I knew good before meeting you._

Caden did not wait for a response. He spun on his heels and started towards one side of the boulder, not waiting to see what I decided.

I stood for a plenty few minutes, adverting my eyes from where I assumed he was undressing. It was so quiet I could hear him move into the water.

_It is not likely I will have a chance again to wash this filth off my body_, I mused. My eyes strained on the clear surface of the water. I tried to see some sign of danger, some reason to rationalize away the urge to clean myself. But the water was quiet.

I finally convinced myself to take a bath with the promise to stab Caden in the most miserable place should he peek any glance my way.

Pricilla lounged on my side of the boulder, licking at the cool liquid. She did not bother to pause in her drink when I came to stand beside her and began untying my dress. Then I laid it beside the rock to keep it from getting too wet.

Leona Lake lapped at my toes, a welcoming gesture. _Might as well get this over with_.

* * *

Pricilla unnerved me. As I rubbed the grease and grim from my skin, she made a slew of snickers, hisses, and normal meows while staring at the surface of the water. Caden called out perhaps half to a full hour later, wondering if I was dressed and decent. I replied that I was not but would be shortly.

When I tugged on my clothes, I had a moment of regret as I had no towel to dry with and it left my dress and under clothes uncomfortably wet. But no matter. I could see the pale glow of my skin once more, though I feared my hair was not fully cleaned. It still felt greasy, and the web of knots made it feel like tufts of dog hair.

That night we camped on the drier side of the path. Caden made a fire, cooked rabbit meat, found wood… most everything. He had learned a lot from our trip from Urû'baen to Dras-Leona. It only made me feel useless and lazy. Watching him as he skinned fur off a small creature, drained the insides, and spit cut chunks onto sticks while I could do nothing more than pick berries reminded me of home, of all I took for granted.

As a Princess, I wanted for nothing. Trends in the styles of gowns were set from my preferences. Meals were served to my ideal liking. I could bathe each and every night – in the mornings too, if I so cared. Here – in the wilderness… I was a gold crown in the midst of manure.

The meat was not tasty, but I forced myself to eat and to stay quiet with my opinion. The berries were tart and sour and made my eyes water, but my stomach hungered so I ate them. Pricilla dug into the entrails of the rabbit, a smug, satisfied gleam in her eyes.

Aleahma's horse scoffed from his tether to a tree some feet away. Along with the horse, she had given us a saddle bag that, when we opened it, contained a dagger, an empty pouch, and a water skin. I had been left out of so many conversations and discussions regarding this trip I was surprised at these gifts, but Caden was not. He had known about them. I did not like it.

"You are quiet tonight," Caden said as he laid a few sticks onto the dancing fire flames. The dagger laid beside him, blood stained from the rabbit, and his spitting stick was gripped in his free hand. "What is on your mind?"

I held my knees close to my chest, already feeling the cold bite of the night. "I am well enough."

Caden gave me a sideways glance. "Your voice sounds otherwise."

That confused me. My voice was monotone; there was no emotion to hint him. "You hear folly."

"My voice of reason says, 'Nay, not so'." And then he chuckled, letting his words linger and hover.

"Then I wish not to speak of it."

Caden frowned, leaning towards me. "Gwen… remember I told you my mother said 'tis best to speak to a stranger of what haunts your mind for they have no previous judgments?"

"Here, that does not work. You are no longer a stranger to me." And it was true. Caden had seen me unpolished and far from refined. He knew I was weak.

Caden seemed to have a mixed reaction. His lips twitched as if he could not decide whether to smile or frown. He scooted till he sat beside me and then, though with hesitance, put his arm around me. Despite the cool air, he was warm, and I found myself leaning into him slightly.

"My mother also taught me that bottled emotions did no more than finally explode and injure the heart. Perhaps you should… tell me."

I swallowed. "What if you told me more of your mother?"

I could not see him, so I did not know if he winced or grimaced as Caden remained silent for a stretch. I nearly took back my words, but he sighed and spoke up. "I have not been completely honest with you, Gwendolyn."

Immediately I stiffed, pulling away from Caden's warmth. He dared not look at me; rather, he stared into the fire as emotion gathered like storm clouds in the color of his eyes. "You have to understand, I have never revealed this to anyone. I have asked Kharisa never to speak of it. Ayame does not know for we met her… after….

"My father grew up in a respected family. He was a nobleman till the day he died." Caden pressed a palm to his hair. "My mother came from a modest family – not that lived in the likes of castles or estates, mind you; but well enough. She and Father met during a celebratory ball. He was a guest, and she was a server earning coins for her father's business. While I have never cared to believe in love at first sight, something magical happened between them that night. They connected. Mother enjoyed retelling that night to me before tucking me into bed at night, and she always had a certain sparkle in her eye…. But I digress.

"They continued to meet in the city after the ball. Father's parents at the time were undecided how they felt, but his mother did wish – to a point – that he focus his affections on a girl of wealthier heritage. But Father would have none of it. He and my mother continued to see each other, both in public and in secret. And then they were engaged, and shortly after they were wedded. I was born the next year, and ten years later Kharisa was too.

"I remember clearly the day they died. I was fifteen, and Mother and Father were outside in the gardens. Kharisa sat with me on the third floor balcony, and we could see the crowd mewling in the distance. It was a time of pinching economic wrath for the city – worse so than it is today – and citizens had already attacked other estates. I had hoped we would avoid it as many of them knew my mother and her kind soul. She took weekly trips through the city giving our leftover bread slices and loaves to those in hunger. But, as I learned later, 'friends' of Father's had been stoning many hearts in regards to my family – made a mockery of them!"

Caden stopped, wincing and taking a deep breath. The memories were incasing him, the fear stinging him. As he spoke, he brought his arms to knees and hugged himself, pushing away dark thoughts and concentrating on simply telling the events.

I put a hand on his shoulder, and it seemed to encourage him to continue. "The mob pushed through into the estate and killed my parents in an attempt to gain access to our possessions. I watched it all from above, and I did nothing – could do nothing.

"The mobbers were tearing my home to rubble. I feared for my crying sister – she was only five – and made an escape through a hidden staircase in my parent's bedroom. After that… I did not care to return. My life was never the same again. Kharisa and I had struggled for so many years, but I learned fast how to survive – and steal. The very first house I plundered was that of the nobleman most instrumental in betraying my parents, and – then – it had felt _good_… a cleaner revenge. I never stopped."

He was done. I could tell by the droop in his eyes as he sighed and rested his head on his folded arms.

"You had grandparents, did you not? Why not seek them?"

Caden winced. "I hated any reminder of my parents, and even if I had sought them out, both sets died within a year or two of my parents' deaths."

"I'm so sorry, Caden." He had lied to me again, but I was not so angry this time. He hid from his pain. I was glad he could tell me this. And to show it, I hugged his tense and wired body.

He returned the gesture, pulling me tight and close. "I have survived… despite circumstances. I must thank you, Gwen, for allowing me this chance to redeem myself. If we can save that village, I… I might be a peace."

The guilt nearly made me sick. _He would hate me if he knew the truth_. That I did this not for the doomed people of the village but for myself – to escape an uncomfortable situation. That I had convinced him to come through deceit and lies. In Urû'baen, I did not care so much if he hated me, but now… the pain throbbed and simmered at the thought of losing this friendship.

Caden held me a little longer, pressing his cheek to my hair and staring into the dimming fire light. Eventually, however, we separated, and he tended to the wood and flames. I stayed quiet, hoping he had forgotten my distress.

When he was satisfied with the fire, he turned back to me with a grim smile. "I told you one of my most guarded secrets. I say that is enough display of trust for you to open even the littlest towards me." Caden pulled me back into his arms again. "Tell me your fears. I am here for you." Behind us somewhere, Pricilla made an amused noise.

I bit my lip.

"Tell me about _your_ mother," he prodded.

"I know not enough to tell." And it made me sheepish.

But Caden was not fazed. "Tell me what you do know."

I shrugged. "When I was younger, she would tell how much she loved me and how much a lady she thought I would become. It is Mother's dream that I live up to every aspect of the perfect woman. I think it may be perhaps because she could not do it herself."

Caden brushed a hand into my hair. "Perfection is quite the image to emulate."

"Perhaps…." I leaned my head onto his shoulder. "She was the one who introduced me to Edrolph. He is the only man she approves of for me to wed. She never did like Murtagh."

Caden tensed at Edrolph's name. "He is the one who is ordered to burn the village, aye?"

I nodded.

"…Did you approve… of him wedding you, that is."

"There are times when I am confused. He can be sweet and tending, but there are also times when he scares me and is coarse or rough." I hated the lingering fear. Edrolph would be as displeased as Father that I ran away. "However, I believe he is stressed. I should have done more to help him."

Caden shook his head, suddenly tensed and uncomfortable. "Who is Murtagh, then? Do you love him?"

I laughed then. "Nay, he is more like an older brother to me. He had a rebellious mood Mother believed came from having no parents. His died when he was young, and my mother gave him a hidden room at the castle so he would stay out of most people's ways. But he knew how to escape and sneak back in."

Caden seemed to perk up. "Has he black hair and tanned skin and cloudy eyes?"

I smiled. "Aye."

Caden chuckled. "I met him before. He was the one who showed me many of the Urû'baen intricacies. We were tense friends but loyal, and he helped me more than once in stealing precious items."

"Murtagh and I were thick as blood when we were young," I said, "but we drifted apart in ways when we chose different paths."

"Different paths?" Caden made a noise of intrigue.

"Aye. He did not like what I became."

We were quiet after that. Caden could sense that I was reluctant to talk more of my family and did not push it. Perhaps he thought we had time to discuss later. It was dark, though, and we were tired. Unlike our walk to Dras-Leona, we did not have spreads or blankets. Caden stretched out beside me and held our bodies close to keep warmth. The wind had died down, but I did not sleep well in the least.

* * *

The next day was horrid. My back and limbs felt thick and stiff; my mood resembled that of a ravenous wolf. Strangely, though I snapped at Caden often, he only grinned and chuckled. And that only angered me more. Riding on the horse pinched most every sore muscle in my legs (though I admitted Caden had more reason to complain of the horse riding), and I still felt utterly dirty and greasy.

But out of all these qualms and pains I could list several times in my mind, none was worse than the cruelty Pricilla stabbed me with.

We were nearing the end of the Leona Lake. The scenery had not changed much, only that in the distance the land was less rocky and flatter. A little line in the horizon was all that could be seen of Belatona's walls.

Pricilla jumped into my lap, curling into me and purring. That alone puzzled me, but I reached forth and stroked her soft fur. Caden commented with a chuckle that we were finally getting along.

And then she spoke to me.

_Silly human, he is, not to recognize the scene of false affection._

My fingers froze, and I was about to push her off me.

_Pretend, Gwendolyn, that we do get along. Humor him. Else I shall reveal unto him your greatest secret, your greatest betrayal._

I scratched behind Pricilla's ears. _What do you mean?_

_I heard your thoughts last night, child. I heard your guilt over your lies to Caden._

_Do not tell him!_

_Why should I not?_ She grinned.

I glanced at Caden, and we met eyes. His answering smile was warm, and his grip on my waist tightened. With Pricilla on my lap, Caden now pushed us till my back touched his torso.

_Pricilla, you must believe me! I meant no harm to him!_

_ You have feelings for him then?_

I blinked and gnawed on my lip. _I… he is a friend. And if he knew what I did, he would hate me and leave me here in the wilderness._

_ I think you know he would never be capable of that._

_ Do not tell him, Pricilla. I beg of you!_

My head began to reel, and the distress must have begun to show outwardly for Caden murmured soft words to calm me.

Pricilla's thoughts took a giant snap at my conscious, the teeth of the attack ripping through my mind and leaving it bleeding. _You are a slimy snake born in the pits of darkness! One could be no better a spawn of the Black King than you. Here ye sit, taking the comfort from a man whose worth and price far exceeds your own. You lie to him with every touch, with every glance. You will never know true happiness for you are selfish and cruel. The werecats shall know you as the Bane of Beauty. Forever shall you be ugly to my kind!_

"Enough!" I gasped.

"Gwendolyn?"

I struggled in Caden's grasp. My stomach groaned and churned with a fierce vengeance. "Stop the horse at once!" I exclaimed.

He did it without hesitance, though his arms still held me prisoner. "Gwendolyn, what is the matter?"

I managed to break free, squirming and groaning at the explosion that shook up my stomach. But I landed awkwardly, crashing to my knees. With flaming skin and utter pain, I vomited onto the ground. The sunlight began to flutter into night. My head swung.

I passed out.

I groaned as I came too, still lying on the muddy grit beside a grotesque pile of vomit. Caden was already beside me, taking me into his arms and lying me beside the lake. He cupped his hands, dipped it into the water, and splashed my face with the cool liquid. I coughed and sputtered.

"How are you feeling, Gwendolyn?" Caden leaned over me, wiping hair strands from my face with gentle strokes.

I twisted my head to see Pricilla still perched on the horse, a stern glint in her eyes. _You speak of this, and so shall I reveal what I know._

I shuddered.

"Gwendolyn…." Caden lifted me into his arms much the same way he did when I sung the dead berry bush to life so many days ago. "Take deep breaths... just relax... are you ill?"

I shook my head.

"Perhaps you are. You do not adapt well to extremes." He smiled at his words, but it fell away when I glared.

"What is your meaning?" And then I was not angry, I was anxious. What _was_ his meaning?

"Calm yourself," Caden said. "I mean only that you are not used to such an environment."

"I am weak." My voice broke.

He frowned but said nothing. He was thinking hard how to respond.

"I am weak, Caden. I cannot survive out here. I do nothing to help you because I know not how!" Tears pricked my eyes, and I fought to keep them at bay. Anywhere else, I would not have cared to cry. I would have used it to my advantage. But I could not do this to Caden. It only proved my point.

"Shhh…"

But I shook my head. It made me dizzy again. "I can do nothing to help. I am useless – a burden."

He grimaced. "Gwendolyn… tell me what ails you. Why do you think this? It is not true."

But I bit my lip and held silent. Pricilla loomed in the back of my mind. I should have said nothing, claimed it was food irritating my stomach.

"I will not be mad, whatever your feelings," Caden encouraged. "I promise you never will I judge you again the way I had. It was cruel. _You_ were right. This is so different for you, and it is wrong of me to expect you to change your views, your life so quickly."

He sighed when I remained silent. The disappointment and hurt flooded his body, and he looked away with closed eyes. "You _have_ done much for me. Without you I would not be here."

Oh, how I knew that to be true….

Caden touched my face, his opening with a softer moss green color. "You make the pain easier, Gwen. You gave me this opportunity to make peace with myself."

_Tell him!_ I yelled to myself.

Caden bent his head to mine. It was like a jolt of lightening to my innards when he pressed a feather-like kiss to my forehead. He spoke so soft, his words dipped with regret. "Before I knew you… I would have believed you. I would have thought you so many things. But I cannot. What you say of yourself is not true."

I gapped open my mouth to speak – I knew not what but sentences were jumping at the tip of my tongue to be heard. But he pushed down his thumb over my lips to keep me from speaking. "Never forget you held me when I grieved my lost sister and Ayame, that you left the very things you knew to do what you could to save a small village. To me, you have earned the title of Princess, and I am honored to know you."

My heart could be heard in the silence that ensured. It threw its full, heavy weight against my ribs, and my stomach began to fizz and fester like eating acid. What could I say to that? I knew what I needed to say, what he needed to hear. I was not the woman he praised. But what would I say?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

**Thoughts? Comments? Hate it? Love it?**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Sorry this took so long getting up! The desktop in my house (the one I use to put this stuff online) pretty much up and died on me. But no worries! Convinced my mom to allow me to have internet on my laptop. **

**Really hope you guys like this chapter. The traveling chapters are bogging me down (they're not as fun to write, in my opinion; especially for what I have planned once they actually get to the Varden) but they shall be ending very soon. After an overdue Arya POV that helps sets things up :-) **

Caden was truly a wonder – and that only made the guilt worse.

Though I would not disclose my qualms, Caden took it upon himself to distract me. He suggested we practice strengthening my voice and finding my limitations. How long would an order from me hold? Was I able to sing plants to taste better or bear more nutrition? Could I command _any_ living being?

As we rode onward to Belatona, Caden developed a small habit of keeping close contact with me. It seemed to comfort him to at least have a hand on my arm or the small of my back. So, in the name of practice, Caden said to me, "Order me that I shall not touch you."

My brow furrowed. "How would you keep me from falling?"

"You will have to hold onto me."

I rolled my eyes at the grin that spread across his face. "Caden, _do not_ touch me for the duration of the day."

The hand Caden had rubbing my arm stiffened and jerked back. The arm about my waist unraveled and fell back. Caden chuckled when he tried to touch me again but his hands would not comply.

The horse walked over a particularly uneven section of the path, jostling me till I almost fell off. I lunged for Caden's torso, holding tight to keep balance. This only made Caden laugh as his body leaned away from me to minimize contact.

Pricilla was not as easily amused and chose to curl up near the horse's neck. _Have you naught else to occupy your time with?_ She yawned in a high pitched, irritating drawl.

"Gwendolyn is amusing," was all Caden said.

When we arrived at the end of Leona Lake, to the elbow crook where the Jiet River began to flow zealously across the plains, I found myself missing the fresh, somehow sweet scent of the lake. But the river held its own sound, a gurgle and a hush as glittery water ran over the rock bed. It was a pleasant sound.

Caden and I knelt beside the shore of the Jiet River, a few feet of space between us as Caden held back. My fingers dunked partway into the running water, and the cold temperature shot tingles through my limbs for a short moment.

I could hear Caden shifting from behind. "Try, Gwen. Think of what the Ki – … your father taught you." When he stood, his gray shadow flew across me and swam on the surface of the water. "This will be your last chance for awhile; we will arrive in Belatona before tonight sets. I am going for a moment to relieve myself. Then we will leave."

I did not turn around to watch him walk off into the distance but frowned into the river water.

Father's lessons were hazy in my memory. It had been some time. From my day of first decade to when I was ten and five years, twice I went to Father, who tended to my voice and deciphered its abilities. Why we ended, though, I knew not. I suspected, however, Mother had persuaded him to change the focus of my life.

_"Gwendolyn, when you sing, it is as if the magic enumerated within you flows with a rush and zeal that impresses me,"_ Father had often said. _"I image a day where you would have the ability to move and control a full army with a single word, a single note of action."_

But Mother was wary of my voice and told me to mind my manners, to not abuse such power. When she talked of it, a spark of fear and flame would burst in the inners of her eyes. Her hands would tremble just the slightest – as if such emotion threatened to overtake her.

_"Oh, dearest,"_ she would say, _"Your father is a visual man; he sees much too far into the future for his own good….What you need is to focus on womanhood, on becoming polished and refined for your future husband."_

Pricilla nudged my leg, letting out a low, annoyed growl. _Must you always reminisce when you are moody?_

I sent the cat a pointed glare and pushed my hands into my coarse hair. The feeling of hay stalks that scratched my fingers disgruntled me. I remembered well how soft, bouncy, and sweet-smelling it used to be. Evelyn would brush through the tresses and configure it to her designs….

_You are pathetic_, Pricilla snubbed, stalking off towards the horse.

Well then….

I squatted before a small shrubbery plant dotted with blue globes and stemmed with star caps. There were many other bushes of its same type as they seemed to flourish amongst the grass blades and buzzing insects.

Though reluctance still soured my tongue, I sung to the plant, coaxing its younger orbs to ripen and mature. The singing relaxed me, soothed my aching muscles. I did this for Caden, to prove to myself I could be good to him and earn his praise. It gave me something tangible to do, to feel. Never mind the accompanied hollow echo in my stomach.

"You sing beautifully," Caden said from behind.

I spun on my heels and rose to my feet. No smile touched my lips, though his words prompted a grasp of warmth to brush me. "Thank you."

He inclined his head in the affirmative and a familiar awkward tension returned between us. Our eyes met, and Caden heaved a resigned, sad sigh. He must have been thinking of his sister and Ayame. Suddenly, I felt responsible that he should be so down trodden.

"How do you feel, Caden?"

A glint of surprise widened his eyes. "I feel as well as I should."

I wanted to say I was sorry. The moment called that I should apologize. But the hinges of my jaw were rusted shut. I _was_ sorry – because I could not fathom the proper course in telling him the truth. _Tonight_, I promised myself. _I have to tell him tonight._

Caden motioned towards the berry bush I had been singing to. "Would you mind if I… tested the fruit?" He squatted down and plucked off a gleaming blue berry when I nodded an affirmative.

I frowned as Caden chewed the berry but screwed the lines of his face in twists and bends of displeasure. "It seems I was not successful."

He forced himself to swallow and shook his head. "Perhaps we need to figure out why you sing so wonderfully and yet the plants taste so… bad before we continue practicing."

"Perhaps." But I was not excited to.

"Also," he continued, swallowing again. "Once we reach the city, it would be best to remove your order from me. It is still wise to act as if we are wedded and are visiting a very pregnant sister of yours."

I nodded but then froze as a strange, unnatural thought stung me. "What of a place to stay, Caden? We have no money to suffice an inn keeper. And, unless Aleahma has a sister that too lives in Belatona, we shall have no place to stay for the night." I held back a shudder at the prospect of sleeping among the flees and grime of the poor district.

But Caden was unfazed. Rather, he grinned and said, "Money is not an issue for this one night. Aleahma was generous enough to ensure that."

Yet it did not calm me. It sent a jolt of insult to stiffen my muscles and a stab of pain and frustration to enflame the center of my chest. How could he not tell me this? Memories responded to the question, and I winced.

_"Mother, do you not think it prudent that a good wife should know the nature of her husband's income?" My voice was curious and even as I sat on the edge of her bed. It surprised myself, given that I had not so long ago been defending such curiosity from Edrolph's outspoken rage. It was the first time any reference to our being wedded had upset him so. _

_ Mother's eyes became as wide as buttons. "Why of course not! A lady need not worry herself over the affairs of the estate, darling. Surely you knew of this."_

_ "Well… I did," I responded, suddenly feeling sheepish and foolish for such an inquiry. "But there cannot be harm it, truly. I find that it interests me. I want to know that he has the funds sufficient to take care of my needs."_

_ Mother rested a pale, cool hand on my arm. Her expression softened with pity. "Gwendolyn, I would never push you to marry a poor man. Trust in me that he is well off enough and will be for all his life. And remember, darling, what I told you of being a wife. It is the man's needs that come first – even if he should decide to have ten mistresses, you as the wife must be the strong woman and gracious host so that he need not feel embarrassed." _

"Gwendolyn, are you alright?" Caden's face was torn. His arms reached out to grab me but the orders from this morning pushed him away.

I took a deep breath. "Caden, how could you not tell me this?"

He did not understand. Confusion pulled at his frown. "Tell you what? About the money?"

"Yes, about the money!" Could he not trust me with the knowledge? Was he afraid I would take it? Did he lie to me and believe me weak?

"Gwendolyn, calm down." Again, he tried to reach for me but was unable. "You are making a fuss out of nothing."

"How many more things have you kept from me?" I snapped. "How many more secret discussions did you have with Aleahma and Pricilla? Why was I not told?"

"Gwen!"

I teetered a step back, and the heel of my foot hit the round of a solid rock. Caden made a grab for me and caught onto my arm before I fell completely into the rushing river. He pulled me away from the water, switching our positions so that he was closest.

"You touched me…." I said, anger momentarily forgotten. "And I did not say for you to…." I wanted to collapse in a heap and groan. I once used to think I was strong, that I owned myself and my choices. It seemed that the farther I went along on this journey, the more apparent the truth became: I was no stronger than a feather.

Caden nodded. "I guess I did…." Neither of us knew what to say then. Caden sighed and let go of my arm. "Gwen, I am sorry you felt left out. We… she gave me the provisions when you and I had that argument. I was so mad, and I needed a distraction… so we put everything in order. I know this sounds ridiculous, but I kept the money from you because, well, I wanted to surprise you."

"Surprise me?"

His eyes were as deep as the forest once more, churning with unspoken fears and desires. "Aye. I wanted to make up for my rude actions, and I knew how much you were giving up when you ran away from the castle, so I decided to surprise you. Of course, though, I cannot afford to give you the infinite luxuries of that life, but…."

"But it is well enough," I said. I took two steps forward and embraced him. Caden wrapped his arms at my waist and hugged us closer. And, despite the stiff smell we radiated, I felt warm and strangely at peace. "Please forgive my anger."

He chuckled, and I felt his cheek press into my hair. "I have said it before, and I will say it again – I am honored to know you, Princess."

It took all my control to push back the feeling of claws digging into my chest. I distracted myself. "Where is Pricilla? That darn cat seems to have run off on us."

Caden held me a moment longer before letting me go. "Pricilla has gone off to meet a contact of hers, a Solembum who is a werecat the same as she. I believe you already know without my saying that she does not enjoy speaking with you."

"So she will not be with us tonight?"

Caden flashed a cocky grin. "Nay, she will be far from us this night."

* * *

Belatona was known for its mastery in the trade and creation of crafts. As such, the city held a vibrant aurora that tingled down my spine. Even in the poorer sections of the city, houses held a colorful vibe despite the common slanted roofs and stone exteriors. On the streets, women could be heard singing. Children ran with cloth dolls and fashioned sticks. One house we passed sent towards us the aroma of buttery bread, and my stomach growled when we walked away. The sound made Caden chuckle, and his arm tightened around my waist.

The market place was noisy and buzzing with activity. My eyes roamed along the wares of many jewelry sellers, and I saw many fine necklaces and bracelets I wished I owned. One in particular was a cut ruby stone encircled with wisps of gold like claws caging a heart. Its chain was a simple gold twist and smooth with a delicate shine.

We had covered my hair once more with ripped cloth from Caden's clothes. He also had rubbed flicks of mud into my skin much to my displeasure. But I understood the reasons – I think. Caden said I was different, that I stood out (in a good way). I managed to eventually understand that, in a roundabout fashion, he was complimenting me as exceptionally beautiful. I was not sure how I felt about that.

I could feel Caden's eyes on me as I surveyed the wares. Often in my mind, I thought of simply going to the seller and offering a handful of gold coins, but then I would remember that I was not the princess right now. I had no money to throw around.

Thankfully, we reached a decent inn before too long named the Golden Lilly. It had a pleasant exterior – white stone with a black slanted roof and blue-colored door. A pot of yellow lilies sprouted beside the doorway.

Inside, a stout man with curling red hair was busy behind a short, brown desk with the affairs of a tall, dark haired man, a fair woman, and a young child. He directed them up a set of stairs where a short woman with chestnut tresses was motioning them to follow.

"Good evenin' to ya folks," the stout man said after spotting us in the doorway. "How may I be of service?"

Caden unwrapped his arm from me and went up to talk with the man. I stood by the door and scrutinized the wide space. It was similar to the outside. The walls were white, as was the fireplace mantle, and the chairs that sat around a low table had been painted blue. Two men sat in the living space now, hunched over a board game with round game pieces. The taps of their game and the crackles of the warm fire were the only sounds in the room aside from the quiet murmurings of Caden and the inn keeper and the scribbling of a quill.

"My wife Edna will be down in just a moment to show ya your room for the night."

"Gracious thanks, Hubert." Caden inclined his head and drew back to take my arm with his.

Under my breath so that only Caden could hear, I said, "This feels rather… homey."

"Aye… I agree."

And then Edna appeared at the bottom of the stairs and waved us forward.

We were given a decent room that included a fair bed, a nightstand, and room to move about. Edna explained there was only one washroom for the guests and that it resided two doors down from us. Caden laughed when, after five minutes of being alone, I hurried over to take a long needed bath. He smiled when I returned and went to do the same.

When we were both clean and satisfied, Caden revealed that he had money still to pay for food that night. The inn keeper and his wife were gracious enough that they allowed us to intrude upon their supper. Caden seemed to have a façade all planned out for such a visit for when questions came of 'how we met', he had an entire story created for explanation. He was the boy who had lived across town, and I was the young women he passed only on slight occasion. It was not until he gathered the guts to speak with me as I swept the house front that we began to fall in love. Then we had wasted little time waiting to tie our knots. Hubert found it amusing that my 'husband' spoke so much and so fondly of me, and Edna thought it was sweet. They were a nice couple unable to bear children of their own and struggling to keep up their beloved business in the stressful economic times. In hearing their story, I nearly wept.

That night, upon the return to our bedroom, I reminded myself of the promise I made earlier that day. I had to tell him the truth and pray he would forgive me. I would beg; I would grovel. But he had to know. The guilt was eating me alive.

The mattress was not the soft, plump heaven I had grown up with, but it was far softer than the hard ground. My muscles swooned to be laid out upon it. I expected Caden to chuckle or laugh as a satisfied sigh escaped my lips. But he was silent, and I sat up to inquire why.

He stood against the wall, indecision crossing his features. He stared at the ground as if it had caused him some great offense. Finally, however, he spoke. "I think I shall lay on the floor tonight."

I cocked my head to the side. While, yes, sleeping together in this bed would be very inappropriate, I did not want him to sleep away on the hard floor when he could rest on the mattress. "Why is that?"

Caden flashed a half grin to me. "This is simply a personal decision. I have not lain in a soft bed for many years. The floor does not bother me."

I was unsure what to say, so I went along with it. I helped him take off the top blanket from the bed for him to use as a blanket and watched as he lay down.

_Tell him now!_ I bit my lip.

"Caden?"

He smiled up at me.

"I have something to… explain to you… to tell you." My mouth fumbled to speak the words.

Caden sat up, his expression turning serious as I continued to stutter. "Gwendolyn, what is it? You can tell me anything."

"It is only… I just… it-I… uh…."

"You are stressed," Caden said. And suddenly, he was at my side, peering with a gentle look into my eyes. I think he guessed what was on my mind because he grinned and waited for me to finish. I inhaled a gulp of air and sighed.

"I do not wish to hurt you, Caden."

He said nothing, but his hand crawled over mine, warm and encouraging.

There was something glowing in his eyes, something I did not have a hope to understand. But it made my heart flutter – a sensation I had not felt in years.

"I… I…" _I cannot say it_, "I am just worried… that we will not make it to the Varden in time."

Caden's other hand came to my arm and gave it a soothing rub. There was no mockery in his eyes, only pure concern and empathy. "Oh Gwen… we _will_ make it there in time. I promise you. Do you trust me?"

I told myself it was not a lie. I did care if we made it in time to the Varden. Perhaps it had not been my original intention, but I cared that we managed to do what we can for that village of doomed souls. But the pain would not lessen its hold on my heart.

"I do."

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? What do you think Caden is thinking? Should Gwen just suck it up and tell him the truth? What do you think Caden would do should she tell him?**

**Also, I want to know what you think of Caden (the person/character). From the reviews, it seems some of you really like him. Why? (it's pretty important info. I would love to hear what you have to say)**

**R&R! I would love at least six reviews!**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Not a super long chapter. But it has a special treat within it….. (well, for some of you, it's a treat. For others, you may feel indifferent or hate it. All depends on your preferences, I guess)**

_I do not know why I felt this way._

_ I am here with Fäolin and Glenwing. Fäolin rides in the front, scrutinizing the lay of the forest. Glenwing rides behind me, listening to the songs of the birds for any sign of disruption. But still, I cannot shake off this foreboding from my chest. _

_ My eyes can never leave the surface of the sapphire egg for long. It is smooth and beautiful and encases the hope to the end of the wretched war. Its shell shines brighter than any jewel. White veins glide across the color like vines. _

_ "Glenwing, I think you are right," says Fäolin. _

_ "The birds are quiet. They do not sing to me."_

_ "Alright, then," I say, "Glenwing, take the front."_

_ They take a moment to do so, Fäolin glancing a quiet look my way – as if he can feel the agitation bubbling under the surface. _

_ The trees are still; they stare with outstretched arms, and their shadows grow long and meld into the growing darkness. Our white steeds glide along, occasionally scoffing into the night. _

_ But then it changes. Everything is a whirlwind. _

_ Glenwing smells it first as his horse neighs in protest. Then I smell the putrid stench of rancid meat, undeniably Urgal. Undeniably trouble. _

We leave now!_ I shout into my companions' minds, and we steer in the opposite direction. We shoot off into the trees without a glance back. _

_ Fäolin and Glenwing push me forward. It does not take much coaxing for me to sprint the horse far ahead. _

_ The egg. Protect the egg. Keep it safe. _

_ "Garjzla!" _

_ I suck in a quick breath and brace myself. When the steed stiffened for a fraction of a second, I leap from its back and land with light toes. _

_ I wish I never looked back. _

_ Urgal arrows spring from the trees, and Fäolin and Glenwing have no chance. They are struck quickly and fall into the dirt. _

Glenwing…. Fäolin…._ I want to help them. I step towards them. _No. The egg. Protect the egg._ I mutter a curse and sprint through the trees._

_ "After her! She is the one I want!" The voice slithered like ice over the core of my nerves. My limps threatened to buckle inward, but I pushed forward. Only the pressure of the egg pressed against me surged me onward. _

_ An arrow smashed into a tree by my arm. Another imbedded its sharp tip into the earth, a hair's breadth from piercing my foot. There was a shout into the night – a shout of magical power – and the forest burst into red._

Thump…. Thump…._ I had to loose these Urgals. _

_ Before I register it, my feet are sliding to turn me to the left to avoid a wall of bright red flames. The forest is in pain. _

_ An Urgal jumps from the darkness, attempting to ram in my head with his iron shield. I fold to my knees and skim across the forest floor. My hand reaches for my sword and whips it upward. I block the sound of the Urgal's grunting cry as my sword slashes through him and he descends into the flames. _

_ I leap to my feet and double my speed. I tighten my grip on the egg. _

_ Three more Urgals attempt to block my path, but I am focused. My wrist bends and thrusts the sword thrice times in the midsection of the Urgals. One screams, a coarse, raucous noise that scratched my sensitive ears. _

_ I find my legs pushing me towards a granite rise. I calculate which way to escape. Just as I move to implement it, a tall form drops from the rock and into my path. Crimson hair gleams as the fire from his head; the sight of him propels icicles into my spine. _

_ I skid and start back down the trail, knowing I have a much higher chance barreling through the ambush of Urgals than fighting off that shade. _Durza….

_ But the Urgals are fast. They surround me, hem me between them and Durza. I am trapped. _

_ Durza raises a hand towards me, soaking in with twisted gleam the disparity he has caught me in. "Get her." _

_ The Urgals move forward with no hesitance. I pull out the sapphire egg and lift it in the sky. Speaking low, quick, desperate words, I feel a surmountable energy pulled from my body as if a hand has reached forth and grappled with my soul. _

"_Garjzla!" _

_Emerald light flashes in the forest for a mere moment. The stone vanishes from the palm of my hand. _

_A gust of red strikes my side, igniting a pit of pain to explode. Then darkness consumes me. _

* * *

My hands became slick with sweat from the thick heat that hung in the air. But I ignored the sensation as I peered over at Nasuada, allowing a smidge of acceptance roll through me. She would do well as a leader here, that I was sure of.

My limbs still ached with exhaustion. They were the last of my body that had yet to receive its full sleep after my long and pressing journey back to the Varden. I had returned only yesterday, and already I pushed myself through the many assignments that needed to be completed. There remained so much work I nearly regretted remaining in my home for so long and neglecting that which needed to be done. But home had given me a sense of peace, and I almost felt stronger for it.

Nasuada sighed heavily, pushing away slips of paper and running her hands over her worn face. She sat at her desk, which resided as a part of her chambers within the Borromeo Castle. Her shoulders shook as she threw off whatever emotion had begun tormenting her.

"It is well to have you back, Arya," she said with sincerity.

I offered her an affirmative nod of my head. She was grateful to have another solid being by her side as she dealt with readying to move the Varden forces forward.

Nasuada began speaking out loud, relaying information to me as a way to organize her bearings. She talked of how the Varden would be pressed against the borderline of Surda and the Empire; the supply caravans that would have to be brought; the worry of whether they would see to battle before the Blue Rider returned from the elves. Inwardly, I winced at the mention of Eragon. Despite its absurdity, there lingered fetters of pain within my conscious. I disliked adding more to his inner beasts, but it was necessary. I calmed myself with the knowledge of the truth that Eragon would rather I separate us in any romantic light than I pretend to love him. He did not need lies but a friend. Perhaps we both did.

* * *

_No windows. I wish there were windows. I want to see the sun – the moon – anything but the tinge of red that hovers over my vision. My eyes sting from unshed tears. I refuse to release them. If I should be held captive, then so shall they. _

_ The muscles in the underside of my arm ache from holding my body on this stone slab for so many hours. Or has it been days? I no longer know. It could have been weeks since Durza last set me in that cell. _

_ My fingers feel wet, though with sweat or blood I cannot tell. I hope for the latter. I hope to die – die with my secrets untold. I have to die. The King can never know what I know. _

_ "… bring her… the castle… knows what needs to be done…." Snippets of murmured words. Jolts of trepidation that sickens my taut stomach. My armpits are exposed and cold. Images of what will happen should I ever make it to Urû'baen cramp the concave of flesh under my shoulder. Almost as if the Void tickles me in the joyous conclusion that it will not be long before it has the whole of my soul to feast upon._

_ The brush of death confuses my body, and it thinks Durza has returned. I brace for the hits, for the claws of infinite heat that maul my skin. He stopped whipping me sessions ago – it seems years now – and demonstrates excellent patience with the slowest yet most painful of tortures. _

_ "Ah, the ever hardening muck of mud," he says. His voice never leaves me. "You must tell me the nature of the elves. Why do they hide like cowards if they believe themselves so superior?" He touches me in ways that boils my blood but quakes me in fear. "You are a proud elf to have left your people for the weaker races. Why did you leave, hm? I suspect there was a falling out of sorts. The elves do not let their kind walk with such a chin as high as yours outside their halls. What is your story?"_

_ Durza, I admit to myself grudgingly, is perceptive. He sees things in me without my having to say a word. He has guessed parts of my past that are like punches in my gut. It seems he is close to telling me who I am. I have to bash my own head to keep from thinking my true name when his calculative words hit my essence. _

_ "You _must_ be broken, Arya," he says. "Why else would they push you away?"_

_ My only response is a quiet murmur of anger. _

_ But Durza made no mention of it as if he was lost in his mind and his judgments. "Ah, yes…. That fits quite well. I see now…. Fäolin became your safe house, someone with whom you could indulge a little rebellion. You never loved each other. It was simply what was expected of you. Dear Arya, such a pleaser to the crowds…." _

_ He would touch me, bite me, throw me to his guards. I could do little but attempt to hold my dignity as a feminine being. I could never, however, fully escape the pain. I swam in an ocean bathed in sunset red streaks and sunk far below it. It made easy to push away the nudges that held me in hope that I would survive this. I could not hope. It would weaken me. _

* * *

"Arya, are you alright?" Nasuada's strained voice pulled me out from under the waves, and I blinked.

Nodding, I said, "Just as well, Lady Nasuada." I scanned my eyes over her desktop and pointed to the report listing the details of needed animals. "Have you acquired the sufficient pounds of food to feed your people?"

Her lips parted to speak when the door to her chambers opened and shut suddenly. We both turned to see the intruder, my hand slipping to the hilt of my sword.

"Lady Nasuada!" Angela purred with a crocked grin. "You should be more aware of the numbers of guards put about you. I simply walked on in! What if I were an assassin? Where would that leave you?"

Nasuada tensed at Angela's arrival. "What do you need, Angela?"

"I came to inform the both of you of an… interesting predicament."

My grip did not lax on the sword hilt. "What sort of predicament?"

Angela's wide eyes traveled to me, and her smile softened. "Solembum has been in recent contact with an acquaintance of his. She –"

"Another werecat?" Nasuada said. Surprise hit her face before she grappled control over her emotions and settled herself.

"Yes, another werecat." Angela near rolled her eyes. "Regardless, she is accompanied by two humans – a young man and woman, and there destination is the Varden."

Nasuada sighed, turning from Angela to lean her forearms upon her desk. "Two persons and a werecat are hardly an addition to this army, though no offense intended for your werecat friend. What compelled you to bring this information to me?"

"Pricilla revealed to Solembum the nature of their arrival. They wish to….."

My shoulders rolled, and a prick of suspiscions reverberated through my bones.

* * *

_I feel sorry for her,_ Thorn said to me.

_Feel sorry for _her_? The Queen?_ Within the confines of my mind, I shook my head cruelly. _The woman is descending into madness, she is. _

_Her only child is missing, Murtagh._ Thorn gave the equivalent of a shrug. _I only mean to say that I feel sorry for anyone who is exposed to Galbatorix's manipulative ways._

I marveled a moment at the wisdom and goodness of my companion – my dragon. He was barely a month old and yet had acquired more knowledge of this dark world than I in all my eighteen years. Thorn hummed at the compliment, wishing to be by my side so that he may rub against my torso.

Turning my attention back to the proceedings at hand, I caught a quick glance at the innate insanity growing within Verdandi as the King forbade her to go after Gwendolyn.

"I must find her!" She objected. "She is all I have left!" For all her vocal rage, she poised a very calm demeanor. Her hands grasped tight over the clasp of her black shawl. Pea green eyes were hard and stern from their station behind a black lace veil. Her coal dress spilled about her tiny waist like the throat of a tulip.

Sir Edrolph Hendricksson stood not too far off, watching the proceedings with careful glass eyes. He wore a set of gray and black that outfitted the curves of his shoulders and creamed the complexion of his hazy skin. He was intelligent for he did not speak out towards the King.

"Have you not at least the inkling to worry about her?" Verdandi continued.

Galbatorix groaned deep in his chest obviously in an attempt to restrain himself from killing the woman.

_I do not see why he hesitates to strike her,_ I thought to Thorn.

_You know little of her story, aye?_

…_Aye…._

_Perhaps she is more important than we realize._

_Verdandi? Gwendolyn's mother!_ I snickered quietly. Verdandi had been a useless nuisance all my childhood, and she took away from me my greatest friend. It was hard to image her anymore important than a mud slide.

_Greatest friend_, Thorn scoffed.

I bristled. _Be polite. Someday you may meet her. I would like that._

_Do you have feelings for this girl? _Thorn's mind bloomed with amusement.

_Hardly_, I rolled a shoulder. _More the likes of a sister. _

_I can see that…._ Thorn consented, and he remembered for a moment the many scryings I had done of her. _For if not, you would have to be rid of her new companion. _

_I knew him when we were kids and liked him well enough then,_ I acquiesced and dropped the subject.

"Gwendolyn is no longer a child, and when I am ready to retrieve her, she will be retrieved," Galbatorix said in an icy, final tone.

"And she is to simply wander about all of Alagaësia until then?" Verdandi's nose bunched into ring lines. "I should think not!"

"There is no need for you to think of it!"

"Like bloody wine there is!"

The King's hands balled into such tight fists, the skin stretching over his sharp bones where pale as alabaster. "I know where she is, Verdandi. I know with whom she walks and talks. When I deem it time to retrieve her, she will be escorted back to the castle – all in due time."

_Why does he care to reassure her?_ I wondered to Thorn.

He contemplated a moment. _A wise inquiry. Their relationship is most peculiar indeed…._

"She belongs here with her mother – not with that peasant boy from the streets she found! She is getting ideas, Galbatorix. She will become dangerous to you." Verdandi shook at her own words.

"We are done with this!" Galbatorix waved his hand, and the Queen shot down the white alley to the gold doors in an impossible instant. The act made Edrolph jump and tremble.

I held back a pitiless smirk when Galbatorix called forth Edrolph. He was a weak excuse for a replacement. The man had no true backbone when faced against grown men. Even now, he held back sharp lips for fear of the King's retaliation.

"Master, sir, if I may please –"

"No, you may _not_ please," Galbatorix growled. "I have a new assignment for you. Keep a strict watch over Verdandi. If she escapes in search of Gwendolyn, the woman will no doubt bring crashing down my purposes is keeping the girl away. Is that understood?"

Edrolph's mouth stuttered, gaping like a fish. His eyes shot towards me with a flash of jealousy before bowing low to the King. "Aye, it is understood."

From behind, I could hear the powerful howls the wind made as Shruikan neared us. Thorn flew a small distance away to avoid the spurts of wind turbulence. He was tired but pressed forward to avoid nipping from the enormous dragon beast.

King Galbatorix rubbed the palm of his hand over his hairy mouth, muttering words I could not separate with my distance. The weak, white light in the room left a cold brush in his eyes that became cracked as clay when he turned his head to look at me. I stiffened, locking my jaw tight.

And then he laughed, laughed as if no matter of stress weighed him. It howled and echoed through the chamber and crackled like fire.

"You care for the girl," he said without preamble. "She will return, Murtagh. All in due time… all in due time."

Aye. But at what cost?

**A/N: What did you think about Murtagh? I know it's a little weird since he wasn't very depressed or moody at this moment. I think he was allowing himself some lift given that the king's anger was directed elsewhere and not towards him. Also, excuse the robotic Arya. She was being moody in her own way…. **

**Also, please, please, please review! I'm lucky if I get even four a chapter, and, while I'm grateful to all those who have given their two-cents (you have no idea…), I wonder how many people read this and actually like it. I'm not too partial to begging, and I am not capable of holding chapters hostage for reviews (tried that and failed). Sigh…. End of middle-of-the-night rant for the emotional teenager. Sorry to sound whinny. **


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: I really should be doing this more often: Thank you to all those you have reviewed! I'm ashamed I haven't said it enough. There's nothing I can really give you, though, expect for virtual cookies or cake (though I don't really make good cake, so that's not a good idea). **

**Anyway, this chapter is my second longest, I believe. Hope you enjoy!**

"Gwendolyn, _please_…."

No response. I kept my mouth tight lipped.

Caden sighed. He had repeated this phrase for the seventh time this day. One arm was loose about my waist and his other hung over the side of the horse. For a time, he had said doing this – ignoring his pleas, his incentives – to him would have no effect on his actions. He would do as he pleased whether I liked it or not.

But now the air was tinged with somber reluctance. Caden did not apologize but nor did he berate me for being unfair or illogical. However, there billowed a bulge of hesitance whenever he moved to touch me. By now, Caden held me less and less. And I missed it.

"Gwen, I wish you would say something to me. I cannot bear this silence." Caden's voice was inflected with lament and spotted with desperation.

Pricilla rubbed her shiny black head against his torso, and Caden complied by scratching behind her ears. At first, Pricilla had been pleased I was silent. Caden cradled her more and gave her continuous attention to avoid the tenuous silence. But after a little over a week had passed, Pricilla too began to coax me to talk. I was hurting Caden, and she could not allow that.

I would have to use my voice soon regardless. We neared the beginning waves of the Varden's war camp. The last leg of our journey, unfortunately, tugged us through the pits of despair – what Caden termed the Burning Plains. It was a noxious, oven-baked flat riddled with orifices spewing towers of green flames. The azure of the sky and the light of the sun were blocked by a roll of smoky black and crimson clouds, leaving only pockets of space for pillars of white light to lead our path through the haze. Beside us, the Jiet River had taken an enormous transformation. We had followed it from its spout in Leona Lake where it had smelled of sweet plants and healthy dirt. When we came into the Burning Plains, however, the river water became chalky white, like diluted milk, and reflected an eerie, orange hue that made it appear as if the river were tainted with some chemical.

We rode fast through the plains, resting only when absolutely necessary. Not merely were we eager to find the Varden, but, in Feinster, it became known to us through towns folk how quickly my father's army was gathering. Very soon they would be picketed in tents sprawled for miles, and our chance to escape Father would be lost.

_Fienster…. _ I winced. Many things became known to me then.

After nearly a month's journey, however, Caden and I had finally reached the Varden. The camp was simple to pick out. Many men dressed in ragged clothing wielded shovels, pickaxes, and other tools; some chewed into the clay dirt with a fervent zeal while others worked at raising tents. The atmosphere was filled with chinks and deep bellows of orders.

"What shall we say?" I said.

It was quiet behind me. Caden's arm stiffened as if it had been stabbed. I heard his careful swallow. "Gwendolyn, we _must_ speak –"

"We _must_ speak of our current situation – what shall we say to their leader?" I imaged a barrel-chest man with a trimmed chin and round eyes. He wore fine dressings and a ring on each finger that would glisten in the crimson light everywhere he pointed. He was no better than my father. More accurately, he was _worse_ than my father, and Father would make everything right.

Caden pulled me closer, squishing Pricilla between our bodies. The cat hissed in annoyance but was ignored. Caden sighed. "First and foremost, we keep your identity a secret. I am no one of consequence, but your name would be cause for heads to roll."

"I will be named Jezebel Zannisdaughter, then." My voice held little emotion, slipping through my lips like an instinctive mechanism.

"Aye… Jezebel." Caden paused for a moment before continuing. "And then we would say we were married–"

"No."

Caden sputtered. "Gwen – err… Jezebel; it's necessary."

"No. I refuse."

His arm loosened around me. "Alright… brother and sister, then?"

"No one would believe it; we look nothing alike," I stated.

I imagined Caden frowning as frustration crept into his tone. "Then what shall be our story, Jezebel?"

"We have escaped the empire with news of trouble, that of which is the truth."

Caden sighed but did not argue further. We were nearing the splay of working men. Their grunts and groans popped like pipe music.

"Ho!" Caden yelled in an attempt to gain someone's attention.

There was too much noise to be heard. Caden's shout melded into the rough symphony.

Pricilla wriggled uncomfortably from her vantage point. _You humans are much to slow and have ears made of stone!_ she complained. Her body rolled against my back until I felt her slip from Caden's lap. Pricilla leapt to the clay dirt. _Have a pleasant afternoon, Caden; I shall meet with you when the sunsets._ The werecat then leapt into a graceful sprint into the shambled campsite.

"Werecats are fascinating but difficult to understand," Caden mused.

I rolled my eyes, biting back the retort hot on my tongue. The horse scoffed, as if adding his own thoughts and saying we were ridiculous.

It was then a dirtied man ran up to the side of the beast and waved a frantic hand. "I'm-a sorry for the inconvenience, miss." He tipped a nonexistent hat. "But you cannot be-a headin' this way." He spoke as if I was alone, not seeming to realize Caden's presence.

I offered the man a small smile. "My friend and I ask an audience with your leader. It is the upmost of urgency and could save many lives."

He blinked and turned his head just a fraction. He and Caden met eyes, and the man coughed on dirt. "You wish to speak with the Varden leader, miss?"

"Aye." Caden spoke, catching the worker's full attention.

Another man shouted from several feet away, "Get back to your station, Borris!" This man was not as dirty as those surrounding him. And while his dress was modest – hardly a state of wealth or corruption – he held himself arms tight back and with an air of authority the worker responded to.

"These people come to speak with Nasusada, sir!" The worker explained.

His superior waved him off with an impatient hand. Borris snapped into action, tilting his head towards me in respect, and shuffled back towards his pickaxe. Caden trotted the horse forward till we met with the other man. He had a shock of dark hair and eyes and a cool demeanor, displaying an appearance of control and experience.

"What is your business? This is a camp readying for war, not a market place," the man said, eyeing me with a skeptical glance.

Caden dismounted, motioning for me to stay seated and met the captain halfway. I sat still and held to the reins whilst tucking away the bite of frustration to my ego. From the look in the captain's eyes – the way he kept peeking back at me as if I were made of glass and hollow in the head – I knew it was smart that Caden went to speak with him alone. I would not help in this situation. But I had seen that surmounting gleam before – multiple times in the same man.

_Do not think of him_, I echoed through my mind. _ Do not think of the confusion._

The men continued for a handful of minutes. Caden wore a serious, confident expression – one that sharpened his brow bone and set his jaw. I did not like this look in him as it reminded me of our… disagreement. I did not like feeling incompetent.

The captain pointed in a more southern direction and nodded toward me. His heavy eyebrows were slanting as if unsure yet convinced for the time being. With that, Caden dipped his head in thanks and came back to the horse.

"He did not want us to interrupt Nasuada during her meetings with the generals and King Orrin," Caden began. "But after some coaxing, he at least pointed me in the right direction." Caden threw his chin to the right side of the camp. "So that is where we will head." Rather than swing back onto the horse, however, Caden took the reins from my clenched hands and lead the beast forward.

Tramping, worn boots and clinking metal made constant noises throughout the Varden camp. A small percentage of the working men even noticed Caden and I passing through. And when they did notice, they seemed to see only me perched on the back of a large animal. But no one stopped us or greeted us.

Though the camp still remained under construction, workers splitting their times between raising flimsy shelters and digging fortifications, there loomed like a beacon a wide, red pavilion in its depths. At the sight of it, my heart emitted a short cry of discomfort. Caden seemed to feel my growing apprehension and placed a cautious hand on my knee.

In the front of the pavilion, a mass of armed guards shuffled across the baked earth. From small gaps, I put together the figure of a straight-backed woman and the color of deep brown. A lean and poised woman dressed in leggings and a green tunic followed beside the guards, her hand brushing the scabbard of a sword.

The group moved into the pavilion as we neared. Caden spotted the closest post and tied the horse to it. Without his urging to, I slipped off the saddle and patted blotches of dirt and dust from my well-worn skirt. After the many weeks of wearing it and never washing it, the fabric had become creased and hard-pressed. Holes appeared in many wrinkles and folds as the thread ebbed away. I felt a moment of embarrassment to be dressing so commonly and poorly before humans with status and power (if little, compared to Father).

"You look fine," Caden encouraged as I continued to mess with my hair and fix my exterior.

I shot him an irritated glare and said, "Let us do what we came here for."

Caden shook his head, muttering under his breath too quiet for me to pick out. He reached out to take my arm in his when I slapped his hand away. "Jez?" He stared at me in momentary disbelief.

"I will stand my own," was all I said and began to walk towards the pavilion. Caden followed quickly, nipping at my heels. I could feel his eyes hot on the back of my head.

We entered below a still pennant with its image bunched in sagging folds and between the main flaps. Caden managed to step in front of me so as to present himself clearly. The pavilion was well furnished, displaying with pride a long table at which the two women stood at and peered over splayed papers and maps. The guards had spread themselves about the pavilion and held strict attention. At our entrance, two guards nearest us stiffened and moved to seize us.

"Ho, there!"

"You do not belong here!"

Caden pushed me back with his arm. "We mean no harm. Please stand back!"

The guards did not relax and now we had the attentions of all the pavilion's occupants. The two women paused in their work to peer at us – one with a curious gleam and the other with no expression to tell of.

It was as if as a babe this woman was dipped in chocolate and the rich color seeped into her skin. In the red-tinged daylight, her flesh glossed like a wet sheen. Her body was wrapped in a modest formal-style dressing the color of crinkled gold, and on her head was a mass of mossy hair that was pulled tight at the back of her almond shaped head.

"Let them be," she said with an outstretched hand. Authority and order warmed her voice and the guards obeyed.

The second woman who wore the men's attire had tamed her midnight black tresses with a leather band. It brought to light the fullness of her flawless, sweet skin that stretched across her pretty face. The beauty of her snapped my gut, and my hands touched my cheek in self-consciousness. _I cannot compete._

The ebony woman straightened her posture, asking with no hesitance and full seriousness, "I do hope you have good reason for interrupting Arya and I before our assembly with the Council of Elders? State your business."

Still frozen in utter shame and embarrassment, I was grateful Caden dove for his speech. "Lady Nasuada, I presume?"

She nodded. "Continue."

"If I may take but a moment to explain, my companion Jezebel and I have traveled a great distance to warn you of dreadful news. We escaped from the dreadful inner city Urû'baen. You see, I have done smuggling work for the Varden and Jezebel works as a servent within the palace itself –"

The guards jumped at his words and jutted out their spears at him. Caden stuttered and blinked, looking to Lady Nasuada for an explanation.

She was frowning. "How do I not know you are spies for the King?"

The woman Arya made no more movement than the slight narrowing of her eerily green irises.

My fists clenched in sudden nerves. "I-I-I…." I swallowed. "I was born into the service. And the King, well, he does not bother to manipulate us because we are not threats."

Neither women appeared convinced, but Nasuada motioned for Caden to persist with his story regardless.

"Jezebel overheard some disturbing information regarding a small coastal town north of here. The King is having one of his loyal men burn the town to the ground!" Caden took a quick, stabilizing breath. "I met her soon enough through a network, and we agreed this needed to be brought to your knowledge. The Varden is the only one capable of protecting that village of people."

"You mean to say the Dragon Rider is the only one of whom can save them," Arya said. Her tone bordered apathy and skepticism.

Caden nodded. "Where is he? If I could just–"

"He is gone."

Caden's lips pressed shut, and his eyes widened. "Pardon? He is not here?"

Nasuada shook her head. "While he will be returning shortly, he is performing other duties at this time."

Tension clutched the air. Caden made to speak once more when a smaller voice – but utterly powerful – peeked from behind Nasuada's side.

"They do not tell you all you need to hear."

She was a child, no more, but her perception slithered down my spine like trickling, cold water.

"Elva!" Nasuada half-turned towards the little girl, unsettlement flashing by her eyes before she controlled it. "What do you mean?"

The girl she called Elva passed a knowing look with Arya, and she murmured, "They speak no ill with their actions, for they tell you the truth of this village. But their identities remain secret…." Sappy violet – the color of disturbed souls – fell to me. Elva tipped her head just so to the side, a strange grin pulling at her tiny lips. "You are stressed – and for more reasons than one. Feelings of betrayal emit from you to your so said 'companion'. He has done something you do not agree with. Confusion muddles your understanding, and you are too comfortable with it to push it aside and see the reality in front of you – how _he_ obviously feels…."

I stiffened, struggling to calm the panic and anger mixing in my voice. "Who are you, witch-child?"

Nasuada held her hand out to the child to pause her. "The nature of this girl does not concern you. However, now I must ask you to explain where your lies be. Who are _you_?"

Caden and I exchanged a worried glance. I wanted to shake my head at him, but he was wrapped in some inner pain that pushed him away from me. The witch-child's words hit him to the core.

I struggled to think of an explanation. To simply say I was the daughter of Galbatorix would do little but –

Cold, silent metal whipped up in the hands of something more than human. It slid against my throat with decisive strength. One second Arya stood by Nasuada. The next she held a blade to my neck. "It would do wisely to answer her fully her question." Her voice sliced like her sword and was deadly serious in my ear.

"I will!" I squeaked. But the weapon remained.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Caden lunging to my defense only to have two guards secure him. He growled and barked for them to release us, that Elva had said our intentions were sincere. But to no avail.

Nasuada came up to me, peering with almond eyes as if she could read the answer in my face. "Did you see her mind?" It took me a moment to realize she was referring to Arya.

The woman nodded.

_She can read my mind!_ This all the more reached into the back of my memories and slapped across my inner eyes a depiction of my father. I remembered him having such an ability and that I did not like it as a child.

Nasuada sighed and then addressed me. "Jezebel, tell me through your own lips who you are. And then we shall decide what to do with you."

"No!" Caden shouted. His effort against the guards increased tenfold. But they held him fast.

I managed a delicate swallow, my voice trembling with its death so near. "My name… is not Jezebel. It is Gwendolyn. I… am the daughter… of Galabtorix."

Lady Nasuada's brows furrowed, and she hid well the shock my statement caused her. She looked back to the witch-child, who nodded an affirmative that I spoke the truth. And then she pursed her lips and studied me. "You are quite the predicament, Princess."

Caden growled from his imprisonment, earning a curious glance from the Varden leader.

"And who are you specifically?" she inquired.

Elva answered for him: "A street rat with misplaced affections."

In this time, Arya relaxed her position, and the sword fell away from my body. I winced at the metallic scratch the weapon made as she slid it into its scabbard. The touchy woman strode back to the table, her mind having moved on to some other stage of thought.

Nasuada waved her hand at the guards. "You may release him."

They dropped him and stepped back. With an unresponsive frown, Caden scrambled to his feet and placed himself solidly at my side. His mouth parted with a serious tone, near desperate to make these women understand his stance. "My Lady, I promise you we spoke no lie about our purpose in coming here. And we did escape. That village truly is in grave danger, and I cannot rest until I know something will be done about it."

Caden's words seemed to bash at a barrier surrounding Lady Nasuada, and she took many steps back with hands on her face. But she retained full control of herself and breathed deeply. She pierced Caden with hard eyes, and I knew this would not end well. "I will decide for my own what is to be done. You and your companion, however, are not free from suspicion. You must both agree to having Arya sift through your minds before you will be allowed to leave."

"And if we do not agree?"

"You will not remain."

Caden set his jaw and glanced over at me. "Do you mind, Gwendolyn?" His hand appeared to be having trouble not touching mine.

I minded very much, but I also knew I had little choice in the matter. So, with a resigned scowl, I shook my head. "Nay… I give permission."

Arya frowned in a blank way. There was no color to determine her irritated or annoyed or bothered as she came beside me and touched my head. Immediately, I could feel a cool presence burrowing deep into my essence. Its body was slick with sweet sap and reached out to my memories. I flinched at its touched, but it continued without hesitance.

I do not know how long it took. I only saw the mass of past events and happenings this woman dug through. Arya searched for any hints of alerts or treachery that would harm the Varden with a cold demeanor. Her lack of emotion stifled me, left me frozen and lonely. I especially went ridged when she came to scene of Caden falling into my arms, grief ridden at my tale of his family's death. Arya paused at this memory, and suddenly I worried of her revealing me to him. But then she passed through it and began to work elsewhere in my mind.

When she finished, Arya removed her hand from my head and placed it on Caden's. He flinched at her touch, and this movement made he realize his hand was attached to mine. He squeezed his grip as the length of his body tensed.

Nasuada kept her eyes on Caden as Arya worked through his mind. Behind her, Elva stared at me. When I caught her gaze, she gave me a knowing smirk that chilled me more than Arya's touch. I could hear her restating her stark observations. _Confused, but you choose not to change it. You are safe behind you confusion._

No!

Arya pulled back from Caden and said, "They are clean from what I have seen. The Princess was never very involved with Galbatorix's mad thoughts and has mixed emotions of him. She is only significant for her… peculiar ability."

"Peculiar ability?" Nasuada's eyes flickered my way. "Gwendolyn… I have heard your name before. But never in anything more than your beauty to men and your… your voice?" As she spoke, a spark of understanding touched her tone, lifting in partly in question.

I nodded. "Aye. I was born with a persuasive voice. But, as of late, it seems I am loosing my ability. Its control is easily broken, and I have no other thought than it being because I have left Urû'baen."

Arya's eyes sliced through my being, hard as emerald stones. "Because you have never left before."

I returned her glare, attempting to hold some dignity. She was taller than I, though not by many inches, and even through her posture, one could tell which of us was more powerful. I tried to find a single scratch of imperfection and felt my self-esteem draining from my face. Then my eyes laid on the taper of her ears, and I sucked in a quick gasp.

"You're an elf," Caden mumbled in surprise, the forest in his irises locked on the pointed tips and the grace in her features that plainly told of her species.

Arya said nothing. A look of boredom fell like a curtain over the anger and, all of a sudden, she no longer cared we were in the pavilion. She shifted as if to walk away when a gurgle of men's voices loomed outside the tent flaps.

Lady Nasuada touched Arya's taut upper arm and looked at her with a look of both apology and pleading. "I know I have no order over you, and you may choose as you wish, but offer me this favor and take these two to your tent."

Arya remained blank and this made Nasuada strengthen with resolve.

"This is important. The council hardly needs to pick these two apart. Think of how they will react if they see _her_." Her head jerked in my direction. "It is only until this first battle is dealt with and over. Then I shall find a more suitable place for them. But they need to be kept under strict watch, and… I choose you since Eragon is not here himself."

My stomach flipped up and over at the thought of being anywhere near an _elf_ for long stretches of time. I tried pulling my arms together so as to wrap them around me but then remembered Caden held my hand. He refused to let go. Rather, he sent me an intense stare that sped the churning of my midsection.

"I will do so," Arya said flatly.

Lady Nasuada allowed herself a quick sigh, straightening her dress. "Thank you, Arya. I will have tent set up beside yours. Now, I would have you that you should escort them out. The council is nearing…."

The corner of Arya's mouth declined only just so. "Then I assume you relieve me of attending this day's meeting?" By the tone in her voice, she did not like this idea.

Nasuada, though, was unaffected and nodded. "I give you my word you shall be fully informed later in the day. No major decision shall be made without the consent of the elves."

Caden shuffled a foot forward, bending at his waist to Nasuada. "Thank you, Lady Nasuada, for hearing us out, but may I bring to your attention the vill–"

"It took you a little more than two weeks to arrive here," Arya said with little inflection. "That is more than enough time for the King to set out on murdering this village that is well a week's time away for any number of men to retaliate. I realize this task has meant much to you, but you must let it go."

"But the Dragon Rider–"

"The Dragon Rider cannot help you." The elf tensed. "He is farther than we from the village and only a boy. Not even a man with a dragon could save that town from its doomed destruction. And I suspect it is already too late."

Caden shook his head, dropping my hand to hold his temples. "If you could just send a squad of men to check…."

"And do what? They would be killed." Arya's arm snapped up faster than I blinked, her lean finger stabbing the general outside. "We need every man out there fighting, every single one of them in commission if we have hope to topple the mad King and his rule. No guilt over a lost people shall stand in the way of that hope – not even the innocence of a farm boy turned savior. It is what we must do to survive."

Caden quaked with anger. His hands balled into fists, and the elf and her liege eyed him strangely. But before he could make a fool of himself, I grabbed his fists and pried them away from him face. Caden's chest heaved with emotion, and his eyes darkened like wet moss.

"_Calm yourself_…."

He had no choice but to listen, and the trembling ceased. Something burned in the forests of his eyes, but Arya interrupted the moment and directed us out of the pavilion.

The air was dry and hot when we exited, and the number of stares from the workers increased as we made our way across the Varden camp. Caden noticed the horse was gone but did not bother to ask the elf Arya of the beast's whereabouts. Rather, he kept our bodies close, opting to release one of my hands and placing the other at his side. In an attempt to offer the comfort of a friend, I rested my free hand on his upper arm. It flexed and tensed under my touch as Caden continued to battle with his control.

Arya led us a far distance within the splay of construction until we came upon one of the few tents to be fully raised. The workers seemed to avoid it with a ten foot perimeter, going out of their way to give it space. It made me wonder if Arya had any special ability that warded off men. Or perhaps it was simply her warming attitude. For a being with the face of an elevated one, she had the stone heart of – well, an elf.

_Mother tucked my thick hair behind my tiny ear, patting the soft locks she had taken the time to wash. I sat comfortably on her lap before the crackling fire and enjoyed the heating of my frozen toes. She had been telling me the stories of our land, explaining to me the way the world was shaped. I remembered Lilyanna had mentioned the giant forest in the north that contained 'cowardly elves'. When I asked Mother about the elves, she sighed the way she would when she was stressed or disappointed in me. It was not a happy sound. _

"_The elves are not a peaceful race by nature. They live in the depths of the forest to hide from your father's armies. They wait for the day to strike him down and kill him."_

"_Why?" I shuddered. _

"_They look at us and think we are inferior to them. To them, we are uglier than they and can do nothing well. An elf has an ego the size of Alagaësia." _

_I frowned. Elves did not seem nice. "What is an ego?"_

_ Mother's fingers continued to play with my hair. "It simply means they are selfish, prideful creatures. If ever should you meet one, do not let them undermine you."_

_ "Have you ever met an elf?"_

_ She hesitated to speak, I could tell. But not so much that she decided to ignore me. "Yes, Gwendolyn, I did meet one once. And he ruined everything I once stood for."_

Arya ushered Caden and I inside her tent. I expected a rich layout with hand-woven mysteries and elegant furnishings – the mattress would be made of goose feathers. Though she wore men's clothes now, surely in her tent there would be evidence of feminine grace and beauty. Perhaps she would even have a bath….

But this elf was different.

No, her tent contained very little, if anything more remarkable than a common man's dwelling space. She had to her disposal one round table that sat in the corner with a book laid on it, a small armoire the color of common pine, and a bare mattress with a single, scratchy blanket for warmth.

Arya stayed beside her tent flap with flat apathy. "Stay here until I return. I have some duties that must be taken care of. Until then, do not try to fool me and do not scurry with objects that do not belong to you. If you leave, I will know immediately." She did not wait for a response and vanished from human sight.

I blinked at where she had stood, miffed and ruffled. _How dare she_ fancied on my tongue.

Caden groaned, pushing me away and crumbling to his knees. Seeing his distress, I locked away any thoughts of Arya the elf and knelt beside my friend.

"Caden… look at me…." I held no order in my voice yet his head snapped up to see me. "Please know that I am so… so very sorry this happened." I set my hands on either side of his face. This was so hard for him, and it hurt _me_ to watch him rip apart. "I wish to anything I could have stopped Edrolph when I had the chance."

He stirred at my words and grabbed hold of my hands. "No, Gwen… this is far from your fault. Please, if you care for my sanity, do not blame yourself." Caden bit his lip and leaned forward until our foreheads touched. With eyes closed and voice strained, he added, "I will be fine. Being here… with you… that helps. And I thank you for being here with me despite… what I have done."

Having him so near me was doing strange coils to my insides. My heart was clutched in Caden's grasp. It made no sense.

"Please forgive me, Gwen," Caden said with honest regret. "I should not have stolen the money from that man in Fienster."

My eyes slid shut as if it would put distance between us. "You were not sorry before."

"I was not thinking of you."

I frowned in growing anger. "You should not feel sorry for committing a crime simply because you dislike hurting my feelings."

"But I do." His words were but a whisper.

"It is not right."

"Will it make it right for you if I promise to never steal again?"

I did not hesitate to say, "Yes."

Caden lifted his hands from mine and cupped my face. The gentleness of his hold tingled the skin he touched. "Then I give my word to you, Gwendolyn of Urû'baen, Princess of the Empire, to never lay a black hand on an object that is not mine."

I sighed, feeling a smidgen better than I had when waking up with morning.

Caden's grip tightened. And then he glided closer, twisting our heads at different angles. I could feel his breath as it brushed my lips. His nose grazed down my cheek and up once more, dragging in a sporadic breath as if tasting my scent. Caden stroked the red, blazing flesh just under my fluttering eye with chapped lips, pressing down just hard enough for the contact to singe itself into the skin.

My innards were gripped in tight knots as his mouth roamed down my cheek. He would have my lips in a handful of fast seconds, and a part of my wanted him to. But my mind flared at the bubbling sensation of pleasure fizzing in my fingertips and heating my nose. At the last possible moment, I remembered where I was – _who _I was – and used the hands of mine on his face to push him away.

Caden quivered at my rejection. We stared at each other for an insurmountable numbers of minutes, watching for the first move – the first word that would be said. He gulped back a heavy knot that jutted out from the surface of his throat and bobbed nervously. Strain creased his scorching eyes – eyes that sought to see me.

"That… that was presumptuous of me," Caden managed to say.

My mouth dried. All thoughts had fled. "Yes, yes it was."

Caden suddenly became angry and punched a fist into the ground. Groaning, he swiped a hard palm over his weary face and refused to look at me.

_How can you keep doing this to him?_ I spat to myself.

Without further thinking, I threw my arms around his neck and firmly embraced Caden. He gasped, shocked at the odd response to an unwanted kiss. But it did not take long for his arms to wound around my waist and tug me tighter against him.

We remained that way until Caden's heartbeat managed to slow and his breathing regulated. But even then, Caden was reluctant to let me go. When I eased away from him, he caught my jaw and held me there.

"Gwendolyn, I… I care for you – deeply…." Caden said in soft tones.

The uncomfortable squeezing began again in my gut, and I tried to swivel away. But his other arm shot out to my back to block the escape.

"I cannot do this, Caden." Strange that I should feel smarted in my eyes. "You are a dear friend but that is all I can manage."

I expected him to get angry with me, to rail on about my weaknesses and how much I had hurt him. But Caden's smile only become gentler as he nodded and his hands fell away. "That is all you needed to say."

**A/N: Love it? Hate it? Arya was rather… scary, I think, in this chapter. Also, she said some pretty harsh words about Eragon there. Think it'll come back to bite her? Sorry if Nasuada was weird. I didn't really like her until she got kidnapped.**

**Next chapter hopefully will be when Gwen starts to really round out her character. She'll start **_**doing**_** things, rather than complaining about everything. And she gets to meet a certain friend of ours ;-) **

**R&R! **


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Hey guys! Thanks SOOO much for the overwhelming responses lately (I'm nearly breaking the 100 mark!) You guys are amazing and sweet, lol.**

**Anyway, not sure what to say about this chapter. We get some good advice from Angela, though. So that's fun! And we get to see more scary Arya O_o!**

**Restrained Freedom: I did not think of that….. luckily, I think I saved my neck in this chapter. Thanks so much for pointing that out. **

**Enjoy!**

Urû'baen never had much of a chance to get so hot.

But _here_ there was no cool air – even in the night, I sweltered from the muggy heat. Our first evening with the Varden, we had to sleep on the floor of Arya's tent with single blankets. Caden ended up stripping to his short pants and only covering his waist down to avoid suffocating. While I too had under clothing, the idea of… exposure frightened me. No man had ever seen so much as the flesh of my knee cap. So I did not remove my dress. And in consequence, I caught little sleep and bathed in my sweat.

A few days have managed to crawl along. Caden and I have been moved to a tent directly beside the elf Arya. It was rare she spoke to us and common that she watched us with vacant eyes. I disliked not seeing a scratch of emotion from her. Emotion allowed me to gauge people and how to respond to them. But a blank scroll told me more than this elf.

"Do not let her unravel you," Caden said.

"I will do as I please!"

This was another problem: I found myself snapping and complaining more and more often in each day. Caden wore strong armor against it, but he was wearing thin as the days passed. And while I felt guilty, I could not find the will to apologize.

Three days after our arrival to the Varden, Caden simply walked away.

It was early in the afternoon, and the rippling sun was creeping its way to the center of the sky. Every wink from it felt like fire biting my flesh. I had been leaning on the tent post, whipping sweat off sweat and clucking my tongue. Caden avoided looking at me as he lay on the dirt ground, his neck twisting as he stared at the fabric wall or the ceiling or the poor-excuse-for-a-mattress.

Strangely, my lips were pressed. I said nothing. But all of a sudden, Caden jumped from to his feet and strode past me out into the open. I had half a mind to follow him, but the heat sapped every ounce of energy I could muster. I simply did not care where he went.

Not a minute later, I heard a funny whistling noise nearing me. It scratched my ears and smarted my eyes. Something black darted between the flaps and hissed by my leg. Startled, I stumbled back a step, throwing me into the direct line of the sun.

_I am now bored of telling you so many times how pathetic a human you are_, came the snide mental voice of Pricilla.

The werecat blinked her slit eyes at me from where I had stood, tail dragging in the dust.

"Pricilla." Such a strange cat, showing her face only at the time of night to cuddle with Caden and lick his face cool. Why was she here now? Looking for poor guy? "He just left," I said, assuming.

Her furry head swashed back and forth. _Silly girl; I came for you and not Caden. _

"Why?"

"Because of me, of course!" A tilted, feminine tone said. With her words, the whistling stopped, and I whipped behind me to see this stranger.

"Who are you?" I asked, scrutinizing her under the spell of the heat.

Of short stature and petite frame, this woman carried a basket on the flesh of her forearm as if it were a graceful practice. Black thread adorned her toned skin from her striking collar bone down to the curves of her toes. She chuckled at whatever expression marred my face, the motion shaking her shoulders and bouncing her thick, curly brown hair.

"Now that's _hardly_ a fun question to ask. Should not we inquire who are _you_?" But she waved off her words like pipe smoke and laughed again. "I am Angela the Herbalist. _Oh!_" Her surprise startled me. She bent down to the ground and plucked a few strands of dying grass blades. "This will do nicely, I think." She dropped the grass into her basket, of which I noticed was filled with other random objects – a branch, a pile of wet dirt, and an assortment of mushroom buttons.

_Are you ready, Angela?_ Pricilla lunged towards the innards of the Varden camp. In three days, most of the tents were raised from their posts, but the sounds of chinking and shuffling metal could still be heard throughout the day.

Angela nodded to the cat and said to me, "You will come with us, won't you? That tent there is like your grave – you never rise from it. Come now, come now!" Her hands waved in a hurried motion, obviously not expecting me to refuse or escape.

It was then I realized I recognized her name. "I met your sister," I blurted rather indelicately.

A small brow arched on the woman's forehead as if she were questioning my sanity. "That didn't take long at all, now did it?"

"Pardon?"

_I told you_, Pricilla snubbed.

Angela shrugged and turned toward Pricilla. "Walk with me, and we shall discuss it when we get to my tent. These ingredients won't stay fresh forever, you know."

_If you say so…_ I thought about the mud, grass, and branch in her basket.

Pricilla darted far ahead, vanishing between a pile of tools. Angela did not seem to notice, too caught up in her rendition of a perilous encounter with a red-eyed rabbit. She knew her way through the camp without the use of her witty eyes – her different eyes. Green and brown were a common color generally among the people of the Empire, even Surda I assumed. But Angela's round orbs appeared to be thinned shrubs – a mixture of bark sprouting into evergreen – with their only fruit being a medium-sized, black berry and was cradled by a milky white sky.

"So naturally I whipped out a nasty, deplorable sweater and scared the zesty little beast with its foul smell," the small woman concluded with a smug _humph_. She peered at me with a sideways grin. "What sort of zany creatures have you come across? I dare say there have been many."

I blinked, my mouth slightly gaping. "Um…. I never met any unusual beasts."

Angela scoffed, taking a sharp right that cut me off. "Nonsense! Castles are full of the rarest nuisances and blood-drinkers! I think I ought to know."

"You lived in a castle once?"

"That depends immensely on one's definition of a castle and living within one, darling." She side-stepped an offending pile of manure and turned towards the propped-open tent flap of faded green fabric. "Here we are, come along!"

In walking inside the tent, I nearly tripped over a square, wooden box. It vibrated in response to colliding with my toe. I hissed in pain, my nose scrunched with distaste as I raised my head to scan the rest of my surroundings.

Two prominent shelves lined the east and west walls, cluttered with pots of overgrown vegetation, tiny vials of various colorings, assorted piles of dirt and funguses, and strewn mixing utensils. A mattress lay in the back of the elongated tent, separated and organized mounds of leaves littering its surface. Beside the mattress was a clean, square cushion with a large, curled cat napping contently. There remained little free space in the herbalist's tent, and she placed her basket on a small, round table by the entrance. Angela exuded an obvious comfort and familiarity with her surroundings despite its… personality.

"What do you think of it?" she inquired, looking back at me with a curved brow – as if she already knew my answer and was amused.

I crossed my arms, ignoring the wet gather in my armpits and elbow creases. "It is… unique."

Angela chuckled. "I know you disapprove, child. Simply say it!" She plucked a browning leave from off a tangled plant stem and crumbled it into pieces over a glass mug caked with dust. "There will be no tip-toe dancing anymore – such a tiresome game it is."

"Pardon?" The bottom bump of my lip rolled into my mouth, and I bit it.

But Angela continued roving about her clutter, mixing a yellow powder and bluish liquid into the glass mug. "It's no wonder why the nobles drink themselves flat! Imagine how depressing and annoying it is to come up with a half-truth, half-lie when speaking to every human being met!" She sniggered before shaking it off. "Pricilla mentioned you had a romance with that funny word – _pardon_. It is glorious to see it first hand myself!"'

Displacement settled into my bones as I watched the Mother of Insanity work up her witchcraft. "I met your sister in Dras-Leona." That seemed like a safe subject. "She saved my companions' life with a remedy she said you were famous for."

Angela waved me off. "Aye, aye; Pricilla filled me in with all the gory details. Infected stab wound to his waist. It warms me to know Aleahma retains her memory still."

"You said you would… talk about her," I replied.

The herbalist set aside the mug and sighed, and I noticed Pricilla suddenly appearing beside the other cat on the cushion.

"I have three sisters," Angela began. "I am the youngest and Aleahma is the middle child. Where we grew up is no matter to you, neither is how or when or why. But I will tell you this: we looked up to our eldest – she being called Zanni. She was very powerful and knowledgeable in the ways of the world. Aleahma never reached such potential as did our sister and I. Then Zanni, one day, decided she wanted a different life – a life among the humans."

"Why?" Without thinking of it, I walked deeper inside, touching the dirtied edge of a shelf as if to steady myself.

Angela leaned against the shelf top and shrugged. "I will never know. Humans are all so boorish these days. I think it had to do with her falling in love with one of them – one named Juarto. Regardless, she severed her ties to magic and fun and sensibility. Aleahma, at first, was as angry as I. But she soon was curious to know for herself why her sister would humanize her life for the sake of a man.

"She too fell in love, though with not only a man but with the idea of falling in love. As such, she lost her husband after a meager five years to an orchestrated stabbing in the marketplace. Ever since, she has become grouchy and near impossible to deal with."

I frowned. _That sounds like Aleahma._

"I am surprised – quite a feat to accomplish, mind you – that Aleahma assisted you at all. Pricilla told me the nature of what happened, she convincing my sister to help. But it does not all add up…." Angela tapped a short finger against the side of her mouth, eyes blinking up at the tent ceiling. And then she shrugged and turned back to her glass mug. "Regardless, the madcap rabbit is afoot, and I shall not let it get away!"

She tottered she short frame behind one of the shelves and hoisted a jug of sloshing liquid. My mouth wet dry at the thought of drinking cool water, and the sensation burned into my throat.

Angela read the look on my parched face. "Take advice from me – never drink from this pitcher," she said as she filled half the mug with the water. "It is tainted with rat's blood, and I use it mainly to sate Solembum's wild tastes. It's like wine to werecats." She laughed at that.

The mug was then mixed with a thin, black rod until the contents swirled and formed a yellowish-green color that smelt of rusting metal.

"Gwendolyn, take from the shelf beside you a healthy, sweet leaf," Angela ordered.

I turned to the shelf and began searching with my eyes, weary to touch anything. I spotted in the back a full leaf with several points and plucked it from the stem. It smelled the faint odor of pine and sap. "Would this do?" I asked, glancing back at the herbalist.

Angela was staring at me with a knowing look on her smug face. I moved to inquire about it when she snatched the leaf fro my hand, rolled it like a scroll, and stood it up in the mug like a straw. "Wonderful. It will do just fine."

* * *

**Arya**

_Oh, Mother…._ I exhaled a relaxing breath as I thought of reporting to Mother the slow workings of the Varden. Setting down the last scroll, I leaned into the back of my chair and fought off the pains of lack of sleep. It burned in my eyes, seeming to hold them wide open.

The tent beside mine was quiet and empty now. I smirked inwardly, relishing the absence of the Princess's constant voice. She complained a lot, and, in this moment of rest, I wondered how her companion managed to survive. In searching his mind, I had seen the depth of his feelings for her – a deep caring that swam very near the vortex of love. I was inclined to feel sorry for him, knowing of his love's betrayal to him.

Eragon would have said something to Caden. But it was not my business to go about mending or breaking relationships. The Princess felt decent remorse about her actions and would eventually tell her friend the truth. It was not my duty to do so for her.

One thing _had_ caught me off guard, however. The Princess knew Murtagh well, had grown up with him. She had a memory of his leaving free and of him returning and bound in chains. I could not get a sense of the timing, though I suspected it to be after Murtagh's kidnapping. But what did it mean? Eragon could not scry him. That would mean death. But the Mad King had the ability to shield Murtagh from Eragon. Murtagh must be alive.

Nasuada was strange with the news. She seemed relieved and yet all the more stress because of it. But we did not talk about it long, and now the information was set aside to the impending problems gutting the Varden. There was battle to prepare for, and we needed every man ready.

"Lady Arya?"

The voice I recognized as Caden, and he spoke from outside my tent. I stood from my chair and pulled aside the tent flap. "Is there something you need?"

Frowning and furrowed, Caden nodded. "I have… an immense favor to ask – beg – of you."

His deep eyes searched my face for any sign to hold onto, but I remained blank and merely waited for him to continue. He swallowed and straightened his back. "Arya, I ask that you train me to fight."

I sucked a quick breath through my nose.

Caden took this as a bad sign. "You said so yourself that you needed every man available to fight this war. I want the King dead; he's destroyed everything I have, and I am going mad doing nothing about it. Please say you will."

"Why ask me and not one of the human generals?" Though I asked in such a way as to unhinge him, already I was considering his proposition.

His cheeks darkened a pinkish color. "I would not even know where to start in finding them and you… I have a gut feeling you could teach me more than all the generals combined…." Caden, at first, avoided my stone gaze. But then he steeled his spine and stared back at me with strong resolve.

For a bitter moment, he reminded me of Eragon. These two boys shared an eagerness for knowledge that I admired. And he made a decent argument.

I nodded. "I accept to be your teacher and master, Caden. But know that, while I can teach you many things, I will also be the hardest on you. If you truly wish to have an elf as your master, meet me in the sparing fields every dawn and every sunset."

Caden bowed. "Aye, Lady Arya."

"You will refer to me as Master," I snapped.

"Yes, Master."

"There will be no tolerance for any bout of complaining, and if you cannot do so, your lessons will be terminated. The same consequence shall follow if you decide to slack or be absent."

"Yes, Master."

Caden remained bowed, and I felt the urge to smirk. "Now leave me be; I have some business I must attend to."

"Yes, Master." With that, he rose himself to full height and began walking towards his tent.

_This should be interesting…._

**A/N: So how was that? Good or bad? I hope Angela was just right. She hasn't revealed everything (far from it) about herself or her sisters, but it's a start. Also, she's got some sort of plan in mind. What's going on with her?**

**And Arya is giving Caden fighting lessons? **

**Given that we are melding into cannon story line here, some things are going to change a bit. Not so much this early on, though. I do have a question, however: **_**how much of Inheritance do you prefer stays the same?**_** As far as what's being planned, nothing has gone crazy AU. But if you guys don't mind, maybe Arya would feel more about Eragon **_**before**_** the ending, lol. **

**Comment or PM with your thoughts! XD**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Thanks for all the lovely comments and reviews! I love hearing from you guys! Twenty more reviews till one hundred! Yay! **

**This is both a long chapter and a weird chapter. Lots of stuff happening, so I hope it isn't confusing. **

**Enjoy, as always.**

Maybe I should not have been surprised to see Caden warped with bruises. The blotchy purple, green, and blue tenderizing his flesh was like a new tunic he wore daily. And while I expected him to complain (every movement he made, he was in obvious pain), Caden kept a sealed mouth and went about performing simple exercises on the floor of our tent.

I learned fairly easily that Caden had enlisted the assistance of Arya the elf in fighting and sword use. Anger bubbled under my surface, knowing this elf lady was abusing my dear friend.

"Why do you let her do that to you?"

Caden, with his knees bent up in the air, crunched his torso to meet his thighs and then fell back down. Due to my question, he paused in his training and glanced up at me. "I asked her to help me, Gwen, and she never held a veil to the truth. I know what I am doing."

From my spot on the mattress, I leaned over and poked a purple mark that extended the curve of his shoulder like an ink spill. He winced and drew away. "See? You are in pain. It has only been three days, and you look like you are dead and rotting."

"Forget not that I smell it, too," Caden added with a quick smile.

I frowned. "Aye, there is that as well."

As he continued his exercises, I sat and thought. Arya kept him on a rigorous schedule that included him meeting with her at the break of dawn and the setting of the sun to train and get beat-up. Before his sunset sessions, it seemed Arya had prescribed him a rest period of an hour and half, though the rest of the day Caden was doing every little thing imaginable to exert his body further.

_Surely there is something I can do to help his bruises…._ I mused. Even I, the Princess, understood that rewards of sorts should be given to those who display absolute loyalty. And Caden was very loyal to me…..

_Angela would know!_

I had not visited her since the day before last. The woman was an enigma too complicated for me to even begin to wrap my mind around. But she knew many things. She would know how to aid Caden.

Caden noticed it when I got up from the mattress and headed for the tent flaps. "Where are you going, Gwen?"

I gave him a sweet smile, probably the most sincere smile of mine in a few weeks, and he grinned back. "Never mind me; I shall return soon enough."

Caden shifted as if to stand. "I will come with you."

"No," I said. "Stay here and calm yourself. I promise not to be gone long."

He hesitated like he wanted to argue but eventually nodded. "Alright."

By the time I left the tent, I could hear Caden grunting as he pushed through another set of crunching. Anticipation for my little gift – if Angela could assist him – had me speed-walking to the green tent. Heat today had cooled slightly, adding to my good mood. When I came up to my destination, the scratchy whistling emanating told me she was indeed inside.

I poked my head between the flaps. "Angela?"

The quirky woman sat at her table eyeing a batch of rabbit's feet. Its smell assaulted me stronger than Caden's sweat, and I coughed to get the stench out of my mouth. Pricilla and Solembum were underneath her table, their eyes glowing as they looked up at me with blank expressions.

"Not now, child," Angela said. "I am in the midst of very important research. I could be saving all our lives by doing this."

It was impossible to help it; I was curious. "What would that be?" I pulled the rest of my body inside and pointed to her feet pile.

Angela rolled her bright eyes. "If I can find the red-eyed rabbit's foot in the midst of all these normal rabbit's feet, then I can distinguish its footprints against the others' and therefore find them with a lot less hassle. Not to mention, people would then know when to avoid hunting such a deadly prey."

"I wish you well with that."

"No you don't."

I sighed. "Well, regardless, I need your help. You see–"

"You want me to make you a love potion so you can catch the eyes of your friend Caden?" Angela interrupted, laughing. "Trust me, darling, his heart is already yours for the taking."

Another reference to Caden and deep feelings for me had me clammed up like a shell and unable to speak. My innards squeezed until I became queasy – though more and more now I was never sure if I felt sick or… _giddy_.

Angela slapped the side of her table and stood up. "Oh, that look on your face is just _precious_! What is it you really need?"

I swallowed to clear my throat and said, "Caden has been training with that elf woman, and it has got him dressed in bruises and cuts and sores. I was wondering if you had a remedy of sorts that would heal him – or at least ease the pain."

Angela shrugged. "Whether I do or not, I haven't got the time to help you."

"But you must!"

She frowned at me. "I will do as I please!" She held up a hand to keep me from shouting again. "That does not mean, however, _you_ cannot make it for him. It's quiet simple, a mixture of a gel base, a powder, and liquid. Plus, it'll even cut through that putrid stench one gets from battling with Arya."

"Um…"

Angela pushed me towards a shelf. "Find the gel base, the white-colored powder, and the cream-colored liquid."

"B-b-but, I–"

"Hop to it!" Angela laughed.

I glared at her as she returned to her table. But she was completely serious, and I caved. _This is for Caden. He needs it. Many things he has done for me, surely I can manage this?_

Exhaling a long, hot breath, I began to rummage through the plants and vials on the shelf. The gel base was in a large container in the back, and I had a feeling I would need to find a smaller jar to put only the amount I needed within. The cream-colored liquid I found hidden under a mass of plant vines and half full. In looking underneath the shelf, there I located an empty jar and the white powder amongst many different powders.

I set each ingredient beside each other, taking the jar and filling it with some of the gel. Then to Angela, I said, "I have the ingredients; what next?"

"Mix with the gel all of the liquid and two pinches of the powder."

I did as instructed, all the while feeling a sense of accomplishment. Strange as Angela was, she knew how to cure many illnesses – perhaps even my own.

The gel became creamy as I stirred it through with a rod. But Angela barked at me a minute later that I had to use my hand to thoroughly combine the elements. I grimaced at the idea, staring at my smooth hand and at the jar contents. Biting my lip, I stuck my hand into the gel and did as told. It was cool to the touch and slick like butter.

"There," I announced.

Angela smiled at the concoction. "Very well for your first time. Now leave – I must have quiet to concentrate!"

Suddenly, excitement pulsed through my veins, perhaps even a touch of pride. This would have to make Caden feel better. And I had made it myself!

I was quick to make it back to our tent, eager to share with him my silly accomplishment. He always said nice things, and I could not wait for what sort of praise he would give to me today. On the way back, I noticed the falling sun in the sky and hastened my pace. Caden would be resting – the perfect time to soothe his aches.

When I reached the tent and popped through the opening, Caden was leaning against the mattress and taking deep breaths. He smiled as I came closer. "That was quite the errand," he said with a wink. "That lessens the time we have to talk." Caden and I had spent lots of late afternoons discussing trivialities and unimportant memories. He enjoyed hearing me talk about castle life and how I had grown up. But today would be different.

I held up the jar of gel with a grin, making Caden chuckle. "Why so happy, Gwen?"

"With some direction from Angela, I made a gel to help the ache you get from the bruising," I explained. The hand I had used to mix it still tingled slightly.

In my mind, Caden's grin grew wide and toothy. He leapt to his feet and made a grab for the solution, laughing when I held it away.

But reality can be harsh – and confusing.

Rather than the wide smile I hoped for, Caden's mouth fell upside down. A knot of emotion bobbed on the surface of his throat as he gulped back any hasty reaction. Then, with a calm, apologetic voice, he crushed my expectations. "Gwendolyn… I cannot use this."

"Why in Alagaësia not?" The queasiness I now knew was sickness.

Caden flinched against my harsh snapping tone. "Arya says it is important that I build a tolerance to pain. And she is my master; I cannot disobey her."

A certain jealousy flared the mention of the bewitching elf. He had been with her for only a handful of session, and already Caden was wrapped around her finger. Did that mean he forgot about me? Was I no longer beautiful to him?

I hated the tears the sprung to the surface. For whatever worth there was in me, I could not let Caden be lost to me. It all rang too sharply of Edrolph manipulating me.

As my mind wailed my sudden loss, Caden sprung to his feet. "Gwen, please understand. I appreciate you thought of me, I really do, but I–"

"Caden, _come here_," I snapped with a hot voice.

Fear and wariness simmered in his eyes as his body walked the two strides it took to get closer. "Gwendolyn, don't do this." His heated plea missed, however.

"Your hand."

His palm lifted without hesitance; the begging drowned the color of his irises.

My own moved to scoop a generous dollop of the gel when I froze. _What am I doing?_ Exactly what I accused Arya of doing, I was most certainly doing it now.

With a groan of self-loathing, I set the jar on the ground, sat beside it, and pinched my eyes closed in defeat.

"I release you," I said to Caden. Once again, I pictured his future movements. How nice would it be for him to sit beside me and comfort me? The guilt racked me through and through as I thought of all the things I had taken from him. The least I could do was allow him his agency.

But Caden was full of surprises, and I only heard his retreat from the tent. He no doubt boiled with anger at my betrayal, and I wondered if I had permanently ruined our relationship.

Leaving the jar where it sat, I left the tent to go after Caden. He needed to know how sorry I was. Even if his affections were directed towards the elf, he deserved to hear me apologize. But where would he have gone?

_The sparring field_. The sun was setting, casting a pink-orange glow over the camp. I made a turn toward the left side of the camp, ignoring odd glances from those I passed. My emotions were up and down and all around, pounding between my temples and thudding in my ears. I hoped Caden was not yet training with Arya. Yet I hoped to not catch him. Space would be good, right? Time? What I felt, I was uncertain.

There was a small pocket of space – like bubbles in baked bread – that was the scene of Caden and Arya's lessons. Surrounding it on all three sides were the back layers of tents. Blood sprinkled its crimson color like paint in the dusty, clay dirt, and occasionally a tooth or two could be found. The grunts and groans of Caden led the way, and soon the field became open to me. The sight stole my breath, my heart beat.

Caden and Arya were caught up in an intense match. Each grasped long swords and fought with taut faces. Arya was smooth and almost graceful as she moved – like a river cutting through the mountains. Caden, however, lacked such form and stood rigid as he waited for her to strike.

"Your standing is all wrong," the elf snapped. As soon as she spoke, her body pulsed forward, and I nearly missed the movement. Her sword came down on Caden's upper thigh, but, instead of slicing through the limb, it jabbed him hard as if he was being hit with a tree trunk.

Caden missed her fast lunge, too, and gasped when the sword connected with his leg. Then the sickening sound of snapping ripped through the otherwise quiet space. Caden howled through clenched teeth and collapsed to the ground.

"Caden!"

Arya looked up and shooed me away.

I shook my head at her, wanteing to help him. This training of his was insane! But before I could decide what to do, Arya kneeled down beside him and placed her palm on his broken leg. Given her back was to me, I could not see what she did, only that a green light glowed from her hand and died away just as quickly.

The elf took a few steps back and waited for Caden to get to his feet. I pulled in a sharp breath as Caden stumbled to his feet, broken bone healed. He followed Arya's guide as she instructed him the right stance and where to hold his sword. It impressed me the patience practiced by both of them. And when was done placing his feet and bending his knees appropriately, Caden's head flickered toward me. Arya gave him a slight nod.

"Gwendolyn, please excuse us," he said. "This is a private lesson."

The words I had often heard my mother curse: _like bloody wine_, skipped to the tip of my tongue, but I bit it off. Watching this would do no good for either of us. Vomit pooled in the back of my throat.

* * *

I was sick on the way back to the tent. Not much heaved out of my stomach, but enough to roll my head and pinch my nose. Once I returned to the sparse dwelling, I lay on the mattress and tried to push away every and any thought process. But it was hard to ignore the persistent thud in my head.

_"What are you doing?" I gasped, swinging my palm to slap my mouth shut. _

_ Murtagh nearly slipped at the sound of my cry, but he kept a tight hold on the stone crevasses. Without looking back at me, he said, "Go to sleep, Gwen!" _

_ But instead, I strode up to the wall side, tilting back my chin to get a good look at him. "Not until you tell me why you are up there!" _

_ Murtagh grunted as he climbed towards the top. "What does it look like I am doing?" he snapped between haggard breaths. _

_ "Falling to your death."_

_ That got him to chuckle. "Not likely, Gwen."_

_ "I thought you were past this," I called._

_ "Shush up! Geez, Gwendolyn!" His words were lost in a growl as he swung himself onto the top to the stone wall. _

_ I sighed. Nothing would get him down. "Murtagh. Tomorrow night is the party. I would enjoy a dance with you."_

_ Murtagh was quiet above until he answered, "Perhaps."_

A fully circle, I pondered with a gnawed lip. Strange, really. Murtagh was a good chunk of the reason I had come, and I had yet to bother asking around about him. What had he done? What were his accomplishments? Did he dislike Arya as well?

But the awkward beats of Caden's footsteps tugged me from the swirls of my thoughts, and I sat up to greet him. When he walked in, he was grasping his left shoulder with his hand and wincing. The sight made me ache, and the frustration rose up with it.

"Why would you let her do that to you?" I half-wailed.

He winced, tensing the fingers that grasped his shoulder. "I asked her to."

Could I hug him? The trauma itching his face pained my heart in ways I cared not to analyze. "Please… just sit and rest. I fear you will faint should you do too much more."

Every moment as he stepped towards the mattress and lowered himself to sit was agony hidden underneath pride and determination. The jar seemed to beckon to the both of us. With a sappy, dry mouth, Caden said, "I apologize for insulting you the way I did earlier. If you would not mind… I think I'd like for you to give me that jar. Else I may not find sleep."

I nodded and lunged for the cream. Bringing it back to him, I admitted, "I am not very sure how this is supposed to work, but…" I shrugged. "Angela's remedy once saved you from death, surely saving you from pain will not prove too difficult."

The cream felt a mix between butter and lotion on my hand as I scooped it out and placed some on Caden's colorful shoulder. With gentle swirls, I began to rub it into his tender skin. At first, Caden grimaced, growling as he tried to remain quiet.

I paused, waiting.

"No, no," Caden said, gulping a deep breath. "It feels good. Just ignore me."

So I continued the swirling pattern until I had covered his shoulder down to his wrist. The hair of his arm made it feel funny as it attempted to follow my guide. When my fingers touched the curve that rose and began his palm, Caden coaxed our hands together and held tightly.

After a still moment, I pulled my hand away and moved to his left side. Again, it took a few minutes of working the gel in for Caden relax and loosen the hold his teeth had on his split lip. The camp slept, blaring a symphony of snores and light insect buzzing. Caden's flesh began to smell better, taking on the woodsy, spicy scent of the cream.

Caden grasped my hand with calloused fingers. He waited for me to lift up my eyes and meet his sweet, grateful smile. "Thank you. Gwen, this is amazing – like oil to rusted metal. I can move again." He chuckled.

"We are not quite done yet," I said as the nerves ate up whatever other emotion I had been feelings. With more cream in my hands, I moved to the front of him and ran the gel over his collarbone. He shuddered and snatched my wrists.

"Gwen, let me do that," he half- gasped.

I tried to beat back the angry nerves. "I can do it. You are in pain, and I want to help."

But Caden refuse to release my hands. Rather, his eyes bore into mine, seeing every part of me like an open book. "I know what it will do to you. You're not comfortable."

I sighed and leaned away from him. Caden took my hands and whipped the cream from them, transferring them to his, and began to rub it onto his chest.

"Does it help at all?" I wondered as I watched.

Caden nodded. "It seems to numb the pain to something I can handle. Thank you, again."

There it was again – that tingling sensation to the left side of my chest. Warmth spread as our eyes met and our smiles grew. Tonight, I had begun to realize just what Caden meant to me and how comfortable I was with him.

* * *

Days slipped into two weeks, and I liked to believe I was getting a handle on living in the camp. Though it was still too hot for my liking and Caden continued training with the elf Arya, I started focusing on the more… positive aspects of my life.

For one, Angela scurried me over to her tent almost every day. And while she rambled on about mad red-eyed rabbits and non-existent toads, she managed to teach me one new thing about types of herbs or werecats or how to avoid getting bitten by an enchanted sweater. I found I _liked_ being with her and even doing a few odd things here and there – even if Pricilla's dislike of me had doubled in size and Solembum agreed with her.

And then there was Caden. Something had happened that night I gave him the gel. A wall that I'd never realized existed was suddenly crumbled in pieces at my feet. I relished seeing him every afternoon, talking with him as he trained and fetching him water to drink. It was funny to think the first day we met we had only used each other to gain our own purposes. Now… there formed a connection between us that I had never known with Edrolph – never would have known if I had been his wife till the day of my death. It was not uncommon now for Caden and I to share long hugs or fall asleep resting into each other's sides.

Happy. Murtagh must have known this feeling. _This_ was why he left Urû'baen. I understood the utter hopelessness that marred his sad face all those weeks ago. I would feel that way if all of this was torn away from me, too. I still had yet to bring his name around. I had with Angela once, and, if I understood her circular and sideways words, Murtagh may be a sensitive subject for some. I would speak of him soon, though.

But… I suppose fate has talent for creating emotional highs only to bring them crashing down. In the back of my mind, I worried for the looming war that would soon begin. Two miles across the Jiete River, my father's army began to collect and enlarge. Any day, the battle would begin, and men would die. Caden could die. It was not a fun thought to entertain.

As night rolled in once again, the noise in the camp began to settle. Some nights, the soldiers were boisterous in their drinking and were loud throughout the night. But this time, it seemed they were ready to sleep and leave me to my peace.

I held in a smile when Caden stumbled into our tent, his skin dripping with I thought at first to be sweat. But the bad smell was absent.

Caden crinkled his eyes to see me clearly. "Is that another dress?"

I sat up on the mattress with a giggle. "Aye! And I think it might be my favorite as well." Nasuada had apparently given Arya two dresses to spare for me. Earlier today, Nasuada herself had given me one more dress. The moss green fabric was soft and pleasant on my skin. Though it was not expensive or special, the clean cloth was as water to a dying man in the desert.

Caden shook his head, splattering drops of liquid. He chuckled. "I can tell."

"You seem in a good mood, too, Caden. What is on your mind?"

He fell to his spot beside me. "Arya was intense today, so I dived quickly into the stream to cool off."

Not known to many others was a secluded spot facing Surda where a delicate river slunk by and shrubbery grew. The water matted his hair to his stubbly jaw, straightening out the waves and damping the gold in his hair.

Without much thought, I reached out and pushed aside a chunk of the wet strands. Arya had been shaping his daily routine, requiring him to shave with a knife and bathing at least once a day. Though I was fine with these changes. It smoothed his handsome features.

Caden froze like stone as my fingers remained in his hair. Then he murmured, "Gwendolyn…. That feels…." He swallowed with much difficulty. "That feels amazing." And his head leaned into my hand, green eyes closing in contentment.

The bubbling in my chest began as expected. Caden never ceased doing strange things to my innards – the way he spoke, the way he moved, the way he looked at me.

_Edrolph never made me feel this way,_ I sighed.

An eye blinked open at the off sound. It must have been sad. Caden shifted our positions until our sides touched and our foreheads connected.

"I wish you not to think of him," Caden said.

My hand dug further into his hair. "I cannot help it." I shrugged. Over the past two weeks, Caden had learned much about my strange relationship with Edrolph. A dark look would spring into Caden's eyes when I said his name, though I could not see why.

Caden brought his hands up to cup my cheeks, jolting my nerves tenfold. I could hear the pumping of my heart at such a touch. His eyes were hard to see in the weak light; being so dark a green, they blended in with the night.

"Think of something else, then. Distract yourself," Caden insisted.

I wrinkled my nose as the first thought that popped up was an image of Angela feeding the werecat Solembum rabbit entrails.

Caden chuckled when I voice it. "You are adorable."

More wisps of warmth burned on the end of my nose and rounded my cheeks. I decided to try and shake away the embarrassment by saying, "The first battle will be soon."

Caden's smile flattened. "I know."

"I would rather… you stay, Caden."

He sighed, lifting his forehead from mine to gauge my whole face. "I cannot."

I looked down. "What if I loose you?"

Caden brought up my face. "You could never loose me. Arya trained me well. And I still have much I will learn between then and now. So… let's not worry of it."

I mumbled an agreement, still dissatisfied. No matter how much training the elf Arya could grant him, there was always a chance of him dying. But he couldn't die. I had only lasted this long away from home because of him.

I was startled in the midst of my thoughts by a light pressure against my lips. My eyes focused, my senses opened, feeling a range of chapped ridges pressing against my mouth. Caden's nose brushed mine as he sighed my name and kissed me again.

My first reaction was to freeze, my mind remembering Edrolph. But Caden's lips felt so different than Edrolph's. I centered on that truth and felt the nerves melt.

My hands slid to the back of his neck as our mouths molded together. It was a sweet kiss, only mildly passionate as Caden held me close. The emotion the kiss ignited from me was slow building, tender and warm. I could almost believe I had never been kissed before. As if Caden read my thoughts, his hand touched the small of my back and pushed us together while his other remained at my cheek, feeling the flames rising there. He was so….

_Tell me now if you plan to bed her, Caden._

Caden and I fell apart, blushes flushing out our normal skin tones. My lips still hummed, and I fought the urge to touch them. The panic was setting in, reminding me of Edrolph and what he tried to do. _Caden is not like that. Caden is not like that._ But the chanting failed to calm me.

"Pricilla!" Caden gasped, searching for the black werecat. She was near invisible in the dark night.

The snub creature sauntered to the edge of the mattress with a raised tail. _Answer my question, Caden. Do you plan to bed this woman tonight? If so, then I will take my leave and come back in the morning._

I wished Pricilla would keep this conversation private, but she seemed to enjoy making me squirm.

Caden frowned when he saw the mess of my face. But to Pricilla, he said, "No, I do not plan to take that sort of liberty with Gwendolyn. I only kissed her. That does not mean we have to bed each other."

Pricilla sniffed. _You humans are so persnickety….._ Her glowing eyes rolled.

Caden coughed and cleared his throat, glancing at me with an apologetic smile. When I did not return it, the grin deflated, and he gathered me into his arms. "I would never do that to you, Gwendolyn. You are far too precious to me for me to even consider stealing liberties from you."

The anxiety calmed, and I wrapped my arms around Caden's chest. His cheek fell into my hair, and he began to murmur his promise in my ear until I fully relaxed. Then, as I pulled back, Caden leaned down and gave me a quick, gentle kiss.

We were quiet, afraid to break the delicate silence. Instead, we fell beside each other on the mattress, our arms touching, and drifted into peaceful dreams.

* * *

The next morning, a loud knocking noise woke me up.

"Gwendolyn, wake up! We have a terrible problem at hand!"

My eyelids fluttered open and saw a handful of Aryas drifting like ghosts. They all shared the same irritated frown that was her trademark expression for whenever –if ever – she showed emotion.

I sat up, swaying as the world righted itself and five Aryas became one. Yawning, I curled my fingers and toes and rolled my shoulders. In a craggy, sleep-drowned voice, I said, "What is the matter?"

Arya held in her hand a piece of scrapped scroll. Holding it out, she explained, "I found this in your tent just now when I came in looking for Caden. He did not show up for our lesson, and this must be what explains why." She threw it at me, and I glanced at it with pursed lips. When I took it, she continued, "If this somehow proves you are spying for your father, know that punishment will be given. No one cares here if you are a princess or not."

I ignored her and focused on the writing in front of me. I had no knowledge Caden could write, but he never ceased to surprise me.

The first words were: _Gwendolyn, forgive me this. I have left – am far gone by the time you will read this letter. _

**A/N: Cliffy, I know. What do you think happened to Caden? Is he just ditching or does he have a purpose in mind? **

**R&R!**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Thanks so much for the amount of reviews you guys have been giving me! I love so much to see all your comments and thoughts and suggestions! And I'm almost to 100 reviews! Yay XD! **

**And yeah... weird chapter. Hope it's been worth the wait b/c there will be more waiting in store as I can't really continue until I have the books in front of me to help me stay in character. **

**Enjoy!**

**Murtagh**

_Please retire to your room,_ Thorn nagged, his tone worried as he watched the world swirl and combine through my eyes.

_I will arrive at my own time_, I half-snapped.

He hummed, the sound almost a growl. But I ignored it and continued my stumble down the halls. Day had long since fell into slumber, and the sweet scent of mead tickled my nose. My foot caught on something trivial on the floor, and I staggered a few steps before regaining balance. The action, however, brought out a roar of protest and irritation from numerous places scattered like shrapnel across my coward body.

Thorn winced at my pain as I groaned.

Having sealed my blood to the Dark King did nothing to lesson the extent his 'lessons' stretched. Today left me gasping, rust coating the back of my throat, and revived too many aches to count. My legs wobbled as the liquor made deep mud out of the halls of Urû'baen.

Despite the dream-like state of my mind, I managed to recognize that I had wandered into the halls where Gwendolyn's chamber resided. The castle was very quiet to me without her consistent naggings and assurances that I was quite mad. From the last time I had scryed her, she seemed happy – happier than she had ever been here. I could tell little, however, given she and Caden interacted against a white backdrop.

I remembered vaguely the image of Gwendolyn asleep, probably on a mattress. Her companion was awake and by her side, a soft, gentle smile growing on his lips as he watched her. His head turned away for a moment, and then he leaned down, placed a quick kiss to her hair, and left.

_It is good then, that she escaped; I did some right in the world,_ I grumbled to myself.

Thorn heard, however, and sighed. Whatever comments he had, though, he kept to himself.

It was then that I heard the angry murmur in the air. No footsteps sounded, so I did not think anyone was coming my way. I neared the particular door I knew to be Gwen's. The voices came louder from within – frustrated, fearful, and desperate.

"You _must_ do something!"

"I cannot. The King would have my head!"

The tones of the voices felt familiar, but I could not think clearly enough to decide their owners. I strained my ears harder and leaned on the wood of the door.

"You fool! I do not care for your head. I care for the safety of my only child!"

"Do you not believe that I too care for the girl? She is my wife to be!"

_Her mother Verdandi and Edrolph are quarreling,_ Thorn mused.

I rolled my eyes.

"She will no longer be if she is never found," Verdandi snapped. "The more time my dear Gwendolyn spends on the outside, the more risk you have of her falling in love with that street rat she has been spotted with!"

Edrolph scoffed. "I hardly think that in so short a time Gwendolyn has turned her back to her true life. The Gwendolyn I know would never settle for that rabid wolf of a man!"

"She will not come quietly back again! You must force to return, or _I_ shall have your head – and your body burned to an ash!"

My fingers moved before I thought of it. They clenched over the knob of the door and twisted with a quick jerk.

_Murtagh…._

"What madness is this?" Verdandi screeched; she stomped hard over to the entrance of the chambers and threw open the door. It so surprised me that I faltered back a few steps.

Edrolph followed the Queen, voice hot and suspicious. "Who would so dare as to eavesdrop on – _oh!_" He glared with dry pity.

Verdandi, however, was quite the opposite, latching onto my taut forearm and dragging me into the chambers. "Murtagh, you will help me. I _know_ you shall!"

My tongue felt as fuzzy as a ball of moss and tasted no better. I could not find the will or the ability to speak.

But my words were scarcely needed. Edrolph ghosted at Verdandi's heels as she led me to a chair and sat me in it. Her small eyes were wild and frantic, her hands trembling with excitement. Her dress was the color of wine, but that was all I could discern of her features. Edrolph stood just a pace behind, sneering as he took in my appearance like a dog claiming his territory.

"My Queen, Murtagh hardly has the ability to save our dearest woman. Who's not to say he would assist her further in eluding us?" Edrolph said.

But Verdandi waved him off, her attention centered on me. "Murtagh, you must listen! Oh! My precious daughter belongs no where near that filthy war camp. Please, you must bring her back to safety!"

"Confound it!" Edrolph swore, throwing his fist down. "I will bring her back myself! Gwendolyn has never had the ability to resist me. She loves me and not that street rat. I shall do it before Murtagh!"

"Murtagh!" The two said my name in unison, though one in angry and the other in desperation. "Sober up, boy; you need to understand this! You cannot want for Gwendolyn to die in the plains?"

_Do you want me to scare them away?_ Thorn inquired, well aware of how their shouting thundered the ache in my head.

_No. I can handle it._

Edrolph shook with his rage, quivering like a stick in a storm. "I vow it! Gwendolyn will be mine! Do you hear me, Verdandi? Gwendolyn shall be safe in my arms again, and I'll not waste a moment."

This finally caught Verdandi's attention, and she spun at him with dark eyes. "May the gods believe I shall have your soul should you fail to bring my daughter to me without a misplaced hair on her head."

"It will be done."

"I hardly consider it to be true," the queen sneered. "Should Murtagh bring her first, I make it that _he_ will wed her, and _you_ will be fed to the pigs."

* * *

**Gwendolyn**

"He is gone," I gasped. My eyes stung and an impossible pain erupted in my chest, making it hard to breathe. But I forced myself to continue:

_I have gone to the village. I know what Arya believes, that the village is already destroyed and no one has the ability to save it, but I must do something. If by some miracle, its destruction has been delayed, I can give them warning and save lives. Please understand and do not be offended. A part of me now wishes to simply lay by your side and watch as you sleep. There is a high chance I will die, and we will never see each other again. I love you. And I know how much that would have scared you should I have said that aloud. Edrolph still haunts you, whether you realize it or not. He never cared for you as I, only lusted after your wealth. Should I die, do not let his memory keep you from finding real love. _

_ I love you. Farewell. Caden._

A few tears managed to squeeze from the corners of my eyes when I read the last line. His words swam in my head, echoing and blaring their message loudly.

Arya revealed no emotion at my shock, and this time I could not handle such cruel treatment. Scrambling to my feet, my fingers fisted over Caden's writing. I struggled to walk straight and with dignity as I shook the paper at the elf, yelling, "What are you? Is this what you _wanted_? Does it matter to you that he may die?!"

"Caden must learn to live with his consequences if he so chooses the action," Arya said with a controlled face.

"Bah!" I drank in a deep breath. "Cruel and heartless and selfish – _that _is your kind. You believe you know everything and therefore no one else matters. If emotions are a weakness, so be it! Because for all my idiocy and blindness, at least I know what it means to _feel_!"

Still as stone the elf remained. "Do not speak of which you do not understand. It is not my wish that Caden dies, but I cannot force him to choose my will. _That_ is cruel, heartless, and selfish. Furthermore, Caden was unhappy, felt unfulfilled. He would never have truly relaxed had he stayed."

"Caden was not unhappy!" Again, I waved the writing at Arya's perfect face. "He may have been worried, and he cared about those lives, but he still managed to love me! This is what he says!"

Arya sighed, the type of exhaling pitiful but unrepentant. "His love for you is not full but simply a hook to grab on when drowning in grief. He needs a woman to love, and you are but a child in the reality of the world."

It was like my heart had been forged of glass – so fragile and insecure – that at her words it shattered. Sharp edges gouged my innards, and suddenly I was hollow.

The elf waited a moment for retaliation, though she wore no defense. She was stone against my feather. I could not even scratch her. Instead, I sucked in a quick, sour breath and waddled until I fell onto the mattress.

_She is right. I am a child._ Even now I could see my tantrum resembled that of a toddler. Nay, a toddler had better temperament than I.

Seeing my subdued state, Arya left. To where, I cared not. But she left me alone and allowed inner demons to screech like storm winds through the cavity of my chest.

My ears barely picked up on the soft steps walking into the tent. I fully expected it to be Arya and wanted to roll away from her assumed perfection. I could just image how many partners a beautiful creature such as she would obtain. Had she bewitched Caden? Is that why he left?

_But he kissed you, not her_.

For all I knew, he had kissed Arya too.

"So the blockhead decided to gamble with death?"

I sighed. It was Angela. Rolling to my side so I could properly see her, my lips fell into a puffy pout, and my eyes drooped. "Aye, and Arya believes he shall loose."Angela somehow found this funny and laughed. I hardly thought this an amusing subject, however, and glared. "Why do you mock him? Be respectful!"

She shook her thick head of curls, still shaking from laughter. "Oh, I do not mock the man. I mock the elf!"

That relaxed me slightly. "Oh." But then it confused me. "Why?"

"One would think by now Arya would stop being so critical of the energetic young men of the human world. Caden reminds me very much of Eragon the Blue Rider, and I have no doubt Arya feels the same."

I sat up. "The Dragon Rider?"

I knew little of Eragon, other than the entire camp practically worshiped him and set all their hopes and glories on him killing my father. It got to the point that I worried of his ego. Was he really _that _amazing? In my eyes, Caden would make a more wonderful dragon rider.

Angela bounced on her toes. "I am quite curious as to how their reunion will be. Something happened between them before Arya returned; something she is far from willing to talk about." She hummed a moment, thinking.

I picked up on the hint. "The elf has feelings for the Dragon Rider?"

The herbalist shrugged and began to turn out of the tent. "For every protest there is a longing. No dance can last forever."

"Why not just say yea or nay?" She had me curious enough to stand. "Tell me what you know of Arya."

Angela glanced back from the outside. "Why should a pretty woman such as yourself worry of the nature of a she elf?" Her lips twitched with knowing amusement.

I shrunk back from her. "I am fast learning things have not always been what they seem."

"And that, in and of itself, is a solid step in a fair direction."

In the beginning, I had little opinion of the Varden leader Nasuada. I did not want to care for her or to criticize her. Such a triviality I ignored. Now, as I watched her take in the news of Caden's mission, I attempted to view an objective impression of the ebony woman. It was hard, however, given the circumstances.

She could not care for Caden.

"It is his choice; his blunder," Nasuada said. "I can do naught but put him aside." A small pool of pity glistened in the deep color of her almond eyes as her stone expression walled me. Her next words were like the thundering of the clouds – so spontaneous and sharp my innards clenched in pain and fear. "What is your purpose here?"

I swallowed back the initial clap of shock that pinched me, trying to keep full composure as I had seen Arya do countless times. With slippery lips, I managed a reply: "To remain with the Varden."

Currently, in the pavilion, if one ignored the guards and splay of generals and officials, there stood Angela, Solembum, Pricilla, and I facing Nasuada and Arya behind the long conference table. Angela, wrapped in dark green garb, lifted a small, patient hand for attention. Nasuada frowned at me, about to further her questions, when she noticed the witch's call.

"You have something to add?"

Angela delved right into the matter. "Gwendolyn shall be of use with me. Then she cannot distract you nor stab you through the back. Little lambs and rabbits have proved madcap and deadly too often in years past. Perhaps we see if the same falls true for the chick bird?"

Nasuada blinked, half scowling at the strange words. "You mean to train Gwendolyn?"

All eyes looked to me, and I winced.

"That, Nasuada, depends entirely on one's definition of train."

Protest choked in my throat. A weapon was hardly what I wished to be. Not to mention Angela spoke of this without my consent. I, yes, found meager interest in her work but that scarcely qualified me for apprenticeship.

But I clipped my tongue. With Caden… gone… what _would_ I do? It was as if Caden was my tether, and I had not realized it until he left. Now, lay on the ground while I floated above the earth lost and alone.

Tears smarted me eyes, blurring the lower part of my vision. _Caden, you knew I wished you not to die. Why do you punish me so? _

In the midst of my reflection, it was decided that Angela take me under her wing. Arya had no objection, as if they were simply transferring me to another cell, another floor of the dungeon, another set of chains. I despised the emptiness I perceived in her glittering orbs. They were the color of emeralds, simply stunning no matter the distance one stood from them. Pure gems for they lacked imperfections. As such it left them completely empty.

To distract myself, I thought on Angela's hint that Arya the elf contained the ability to feel. It seemed too alien to understand. Surely the elf considered herself too flawless and worthy of the affections of a human man – Rider or no. But if it were true, I could only image Arya would die before she ever admitted it.

"Gwendolyn need not move from her tent," Angela continued when Nasuada posed the question.

What if the Blue Rider as well was soft on the rock elf? I would have to pay close attention once he arrived, to see how the two interacted. If Angela's insight proved true, perhaps there was a bit of mischief I could perform on the two….

"We shall start immediately," the witch concluded with a grin.

"Pardon?" I blurted.

Pricilla rolled her eyes at me. _If I had not seen the words myself, I would never believe Caden loved you._

_Oh posh!_ I sneered at the werecat.

Pricilla shrugged and turned to her companion Solembum. I had no opinion of him as he never cared to speak with me. His boredom of me was an increase of tenfold the contempt Pricilla held for me. Sometimes I wondered why she even bothered communication with me, especially with Caden gone. Did she feel sorry for me?

The two werecats purred and rubbed their heads together. Angela mentioned once they had been old 'friends' in times past but had separated for reasons even the herbalist did not know.

"Come, come, now!" Angela swiveled to her right and motioned for me to follow her out the tent.

We strode with decent pace to her tent, passing by soldiers and the cook tent. Angela lighted her step, and the werecats bounded ahead with restless chortles and meows. I frowned as I forgot the present a moment and expected to see Caden searching for me after his workout with Arya. But he was not there at the tent. I had to remind myself he would never be there to look for me.

_Why were you so stupid!_ I grumbled in my head.

**A/N: Hope the end wasn't too weird. How was the chapter over all? We got more Murty! That's always good! And I'm thinking of doing Arya next, if not just a split chapter between her and Gwen. It depends. **

**R&R! Love you guys!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Sorry for taking so long, and for giving such a short chapter. Thanks for pushing me over the 100 review mark - now I get to count down to 150! Love to read all your comments, thank you!**

**As usual, Read and Enjoy**

Angela and I slipped into the depths of her tent that smelled a mix of mints, spices, and mushrooms. On her left, she reached out and snatched a vial filled with icy blue liquid. Then we sat down at the small table: I blinking in wait and Angela staring at her grab. The werecats already lounged in the back area, hissing and purring in their own seemingly private conversation.

Feeling as if ants were crawling up the lengths of my legs, I said, "Angela, I do not know what you have in mind, but I do not have the energy or the will to–"

"Bah!" Angela slapped the air, frowning. "If all the great heroes in our legends and stories and dreams simply did nothing due to 'lack of energy' or inability to gather their wills, then they would scarcely be heroes today!"

My brow furrowed. "But I am not that."

The herbalist rolled her eyes. "You say it like I have never heard it said before. One hardly can image what they truly have the potential to become."

My brow dug deeper as my irritation rose. "I refuse to be forced to –"

"Princess Gwendolyn will do as I say and like it or else her little secret may no longer be a secret," Angela interrupted with a smirk. Her hand popped open the vial and her other snapped out to grab my wrist.

I sucked in cold air through clenched teeth. "Secret?"

She seemed to ignore me, plopping some of the icy liquid onto my palm and saying, "Press that against your throat where your voice most resonates."

"No, not until you explain your threat."

"I did not threaten, child. I merely stated a fact."

I scowled. With a hesitant hand, I cupped my throat with the goo. The liquid was cold in an extremely hot sensation, and I hissed at the pinch.

"Now sing for me," the witch ordered.

"Pardon?"

"Sing! I need to know the strength of your voice. The gel there on your throat will change to a certain color when it reaches the right temperature. I will time this to see how long you can use your voice without it fading."

I swallowed, feeling awkward and sheepish in ways I did not understand. It was not that I was embarrassed to sing – for I could sing well. But Angela disconcerted me, bewildered me through and through.

When I failed to begin quickly enough, Angela flicked her fingers at me in an impatient movement. "Begin; I do not wish to have to hang Caden over your head every single time I ask for you to do something."

"You know about _that_?"

Angela sighed. "About how you lied to Caden that his family was dead as a way to convince him to accompany you here? Aye, I know of this. Now sing. I grow restless and need the background noise so that I may knit pink socks."

I swallowed down the knot that was quickly forming in my throat. Hearing it said so plainly – so blunt and simply – was like a punch to my neck. The first few words to drip from my lips landed off key and sharp. Angela shook her head and rolled her eyes as I pushed through the sour lump and attempted to sing a childhood ballad well known in the Empire.

_Oh Caden!_ I wished to call. _For all my regret in my lie, I cannot take it back. I cannot! _ It was as if I suddenly could not fathom never having such a deep connection with Caden. Did I then love him?

Angela kept any extra comments to herself as she pulled thick pink fabric wrapped around two pudgy needles and listened to the sad inflections of my voice. The bedtime song lulled into a sorrowful ballad that poured my bewildering grief onto the floor.

I sang for hours continuously, only taking quick spurts of breath to accommodate my lungs. My voice attracted many viewers, and they stood outside the tent with murmuring lips and awe-shining eyes. The larger the crowd grew, the more irritated Angela's fingers became as they directed the knitting needles with fast precision. Before my voice began to teeter, she had finished both socks and had begun on a brown scarf.

"Stop, Gwendolyn. Your neck is now the color of fruit sauce," Angela said.

I cut off in the midst of the lamentation I was singing, breathing deeply and cupping my throat despite the slime that covered it. Pulling back my hand, I saw that it indeed held a reddish twang to it. However, it smelt more like blood than fruit.

Angela handed me a rag to wipe the goo from my skin and jumped into a ramble of explanations. I caught only part of what she said, but the herbalist did not seem to mind. My mind continued wandering to Caden. Feeling such loss and sadness in losing any human being expect my mother and Evelyn was strange and harrowing.

By the time Angela sent me off to bed, it was well into the night. The stars glittered like tears against the black drop, and the moon was as bright as an eye was white. In small blessing, I was too exhausted when I fell onto my mattress to fully recognize the missing presence of Caden.

The next week and a half, Angela worked the strength of my voice and nothing more. And when I could speak little, she went about teaching me the differences between herbs: which were poisonous and how and those that were health boosting. Together, we mixed various potions and serums, gels and hardening goo, and perfected a poison Angela would not tell me the purpose of.

And every night I wished to see Caden waiting for me; every morning I wished to wake up in his loose embrace. But he never returned, and I found pushing back the ache and focusing on Angela's work was the only remedy to feeling numb and normal. The war preparations continued on, and in the distance, an army gathered. Soldiers murmured of the Blue Rider's return. When would he come? Did he dissert them? Did he join sides with the King? Was he dead?

I was not sure what to think. But as I walked to Angela's tent, a cold feeling the likes of a quick breeze rolled up my arms. Things were still changing, and it seemed for worse.

Angela hummed as she worked. Her sure hands flitted about her plants and plucked the appropriate anatomies to place into a clear jar. In her basket that sat on the table, a curious colored pile of mushrooms and fetus stewed in the afternoon heat. The sunlight streamed past the tinted green fabric, casting a low color over the tent inside.

"What is this for?" I asked, motioning towards the basket.

The herbalist shrugged. "A recipe I have half a mind to keep to myself. Why don't you grind those seeds over there into a fine powder?" The grinder she was referring to was on the opposite end of the shelves she was working at.

I went to work, the prick of annoyance feeling more numb every passing day. Having small jobs occupied my mind, and I would have gone mad by now should I had went about the same as I did in the castle.

I watched Angela out of the corner of my eye as I ground the seeds. There was a vibrancy of excitement shaking her core, and it brought out a wild, unique smile to the woman's plush face. "Why so excited, Angela?" I inquired.

"In the air there is a spark of happening igniting the plot!" She started ripping plant leaves and stems that she'd collected in the jar. "Through special resources, Solembum has detected The Blue Rider shall be among us very soon. And with his arrival, the flames shall be uncontainable!"

I pursed my lips, thinking on the extremities of war. Why Angela should be so emotional for blood and death and uncertainty, I had no idea. But Angela was a strange woman regardless and not so easily deciphered.

When his name was spoken, Solembum popped open an eye from his lazy rest in the corner of the tent. For a moment, he seemed to debate the worth of our words. And then the large eye closed. Pricilla hummed beside him, her nap left unaffected. However, she contacted me through thoughts in a bored, frowning tone.

_Do not destroy the Blue Rider's family as well._

I still felt an ignition of fury at each of her insults, but I managed to hold back any reaction. I simply huffed in response and ignored her black form. She hated my attempts at coping with Caden's loss, how I could find the ability to laugh or smile. I had told her I wished to believe Caden was alive and would return eventually, but the werecat was adamant in my mourning.

"We shall see the dawn of war soon, aye?" I asked to distract myself from the freezing of my heart.

"Aye."

I swallowed. "And Galbatorix's army grows larger even now?" The fact of which did not surprise me. My Father had many ways of finding an ends to his means.

My words seemed to ting a nerve of Angela's, and some of her loose vibrancy tightened like a lock. "I do not like the looming odds against us," was all she offered.

I finished grounding the seeds, and Angela instructed me to pour them over the basket contents. As I dropped the last puff of powder, however, shouts and bellowing curses rose like the gurgle of an approaching waterfall. The whole camp was suddenly very alive.

I casted a glance at Angela, but her face had blanked. The rush of voices melded into each other so much so that it was difficult to make out a true sentence. Walking outside the tent, I searched for the cause of the ruckus. Perhaps we were being attacked? At the mere contemplation of that thought, my heart began to weigh heavier in my chest.

Could Caden have returned? If so, he brought back with him something splendorous enough it had the camp talking and bubbling with loud activity.

I had to know for sure. I had to see him with my own eyes. Was he hurt? Would he want to see me? Should I wait for him to come find me? Angela did not stop me from running through the camp and following the direction of the loudest voices. The workers I passed had a brighter light in their eyes, held their weapons with tighter, stronger grips. My mind flew on so many levels; I barely heard what was being said anymore. I wanted to believe it was Caden coming back to me. I did believe.

But when I began to near Nasduada's tent, the sight that slid in the sky punched my chest and stole my breath.

Sapphire blue glittered everywhere.

**A/N: What do you think?**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Hey, guys!Thanks for all the support and reviews! Crazy chapter up ahead, so I'll be quick:**

**I must warn readers of some violence in this chapter (although I bet you, it's not for the reason you think); if it's so much that you think it changes the rating of this story (what happens in this chapter is not going to be common place, and is probably the last time it 'happens' in this story), tell me. **

**Also, I seem to have no ability, or the patience, to edit my own work (I edited grammar and things like that; I mean stylistically and the actual chapter mechanics) I probably could if I allowed the chapter to sit for some time, but I'm too impatient O_O, so sorry if all that reflects badly for the chapter. I think I did well. **

**Enjoy! (Oh also, the form of this chapter is weird due to me not wanting to write more time passing paragraphs. so boring)**

**I actually went and edited this chapter (more like rewrote of thousand or so words of it), so I hope that fixed some of the clarity issues. Thanks again for all the support and corrections! **

_Oh! How the sun casted off a sea of sapphire flames across the dusty, brown ground. The beast of form and aerial superiority glided towards Nasuada's pavilion. The earth shook just so when it landed. And its long neck slipped between the tent flaps, as if intending to make its presence known. _

This must be _his_ dragon, _I thought with an unsteadied mind. My feet disregarded any command to move forward, and I stood still with an awe struck jaw catching insects. _

_ Minutes slipped from reason as I attempted to gain some composure. A crowd was eyeing not only the sapphire dragon but me as well. It was as if I was waiting for him, waiting to see Eragon with my own eyes. That was how I felt as sweat rolled down my cheeks like tears. Who was this Dragon Rider that would risk life and limb to kill my father?_

_ Eventually, the pavilion opening parted and, along with a handful of guards, four people departed towards my standstill. Nasuada, with her ebony skin and almond shape, was the first figure I recognized. Beside her paced Elva – the little brat that revealed my secret. Her ghostly eyes regarded me with a disinterested flatness. As if I was too petty to worry over. _

_ Arya then came next, catching up with the Varden leader until they walked side by side. Her exotic beauty forever sparkled in the gleam of the sun rays like polished jewels. _

_ My eyes snagged on the last of the four – hair the color of healthy soil, eyes the color of gentle earthenware. This was Eragon. And it surprised me. He looked younger than I, most certainly younger than Caden or Murtagh. Despite the maturity evident in the straight of his jaw and wide cheeks, there were subtle signs of suppleness around his eyes and lips. His nose line still appeared soft and young. And most surprising were the resemblances he shared with Arya – tapered ears and angled eyes, a poise and gait much too graceful for a human. All this I saw as Nasuada and her company passed right beside me, and our shoulders nearly brushed. Our gazes met; Eragon narrowed a brow towards me and stopped Nasuada._

_ "You forget to mention something to me," he said. It reminded me of how Arya read my thoughts, the way he seemed to know exactly what he could not. _

_ Nasuada's eyes tightened, thought it was difficult to tell the wrinkle in the dark skin. "I would have told you. However, there are more important 'mentionings' that require your attention at this time."_

_ Eragon turned to me, a confused but analytical spark in his eye. And then there it was – the feeling of intrusion against the side of my head. "Gwendolyn is your name. A unique one in that –" _

_ "She is his daughter, Eragon," Arya said with just the hint of clippings. _

_ There passed between the two a look of quiet communication – Arya hard and annoyed, Eragon eager to understand and listen. For a flicker of moment, I saw the connection Angela had hinted to not too long ago. And then it was gone. _

_ Whatever she said – err, thought – it made Eragon tense and clench his fists. One glance he forced back on me and it was contorted in an enraged mask of shunning. It took him great restraint to say nothing to me, great restraint to follow Arya and Nasuada without causing a scene (although, I haven't the faintest thought as to why he would want to cause a scene with _me_). _

_ Where has the Varden placed their faith? _

"Stay there," Angela hissed in a barely audible whisper. I did as told – moving as cleanly as if I had ordered myself to do so. She did not say it rudely but only out of the delicate balance of the pregnant moment.

Waiting for the setting sun proved to lay pressure on our luck for the night. It was difficult remaining unseen, what with the enemy camp being filled with a hundred thousand men. Five times now, Angela and I had nearly been caught by the wandering eye. If not for the celebratory cup of mead that passed all throughout the camp, we perhaps would have been trapped. And then it was Solembum and Pricilla that saved us now.

Angela was taking a fiery initiative sneaking behind the backs of distracted, drunken soldiers. Pricilla laid on the lap of one while Solembum pushed the mugs of honey-drink just out of sight on the bench of which they sat.

All this occurred while I remained hidden in the darker shades of shadow I could find.

_I cannot believe I allowed her to bring me here._ It defied all logic! These were my people we were poisoning. Many were sure to recognize me on spot. My palms sweated every moment I remained in such unpredictability.

Angela flitted to each unobserved mug with her jug of frothy poison. Quick and nimble – much more so than any human I was sure – from the patches of stretching darkness and never once did the entertained drunkards look behind them. One reached for his cup without looking back, at which point Angela drew away and slunk back beside me.

"Quickly, let us finish this," she said in a soft, dull tone.

I was too wary to respond.

Our last destination was the cook tent – where most of the barrels of drink would be located. It would be difficult for Angela to dive inside for there were still soldiers coming in and out. Some men were still eating their supper. But for the past hour, we had been making our way towards it, going slowly and with extra caution in both the attempt to remain unnoticed and to draw the sun lower to the ground. It nearly worked.

I wondered numbly once more why I was here. I did little more than carry poison with stiff hands and bite my lip. A part of me, however, believed Angela had a purpose in bringing me here. What that was, I had yet to find out.

_"Angela?" I called out in slight panic. Heat bristled my once creamy soft skin as the brew beneath it bubbled and gurgled. The sound made my ears pop. _

_ The wily woman poked her head out from inside her tent. "What is it?"_

_ "Perhaps you should take over the stirring of your… concoction. I fear I feel a tad faint," I said, though my fingers clenched the wooden paddle without sign of loosening. _

_ Angela sighed and pushed her body out from the tent totting a straw basket in her arms. She walked to the cauldron and sat the basket on the ground. "We need to find you a stronger stomach. Perhaps a bear's. Or an Urgal's. That would do quite nicely…." _

_ I held my tongue and watched Angela retrieve her thongs and being to unload the many herbs in her collection. Many of the plants I could not name, Angela's slim and quirky lessons slipping from my memory. But when she pulled out the familiar puff of flower I had not seen since Urû'baen, a fainting spell nearly became instant. _

_ The world faded from black to white to full colored vision. I tottered backwards, tripped on a twig, and fell onto my bottom. _

_Angela frowned. "You remind me of Aleahma. She was just as clumsy at your stage." It had been weeks since she had given any mention of her sisters but offered no more than that. Rather, she set down the tongs (having clipped the herbs on her cords strung up and about the cauldron like clothing) and took hold of the paddle that had fallen against the side. _

_It seemed awkward to speak. My face flushed in the mix of climatic heat and embarrassment. The flesh of my tongue dreamed for a taste of sweet water. The scraps of my once glossy, healthy hair now shined with excess of oil and sweat. Even the dresses Nasuada had given to me now were wearing and tearing where the cloth was thin and stretched. _

_But these times I did not complain. I thought of Caden, and he made me want to be strong. _

_So I stood and dusted the loose dirt from my skirt and waited a foot behind Angela for direction of what to do. _

_"Replace the basket inside the tent and take drink from the wineskin on the table," Angela said without preamble. "Then bring out the tea mug from earlier. By that time I will have thought of another job for you." _

_I walked immediately towards the tent, picking up the basket. As I stepped through the tent flaps, Solembum darted out with swiftness and went to lay by Angela's feet. I nearly cried out but thankfully held my silence. _

_The wineskin offered a cool drink, and I dared gulp large. It tasted like wet sand as it slid down my throat, but the relief it gave compensated. The mug of tea I found sitting by the edge of a shelf, and soon I was back outside in the humidity. _

_Angela was truly a strange site as she worked stirring her murmuring brew. The fire of the day made her hair flare and expand like a thunder cloud and yet she felt no visible need to push it out of her face. There was no flinch in her eyes as the concoction emitted a ghoulish green color that painted the apples of her cheeks. _

_I set the mug on the bench behind the cauldron, giving the black pot a safe breadth of space as I walked by it. What was she making? Even still, Angela had never thought to tell me. Did that mean it was something I did not want or need to know?_

_Curiosity threatened to wring my neck. _

_Clearing my throat, I asked, "Please, Angela, would you explain to me the purpose of this vat?" _

_Angela did not pause in her rhythmic stirring, nor did she care to look up. In fact, she pushed off an answer for so long, I gave up hope she would ever respond. And then… almost apologetic… clearly a deeper shade of Angela than I had ever seen; she said, "I wondered if you were capable of assisting me. You have a unique talent I believe the Varden could use well. It is very much the same that your father –" _

_"No, it isn't," I interrupted without hesitance. When I realized what I had just done, I clamped my mouth shut. Oh, bloody wine! _

_Angela humphed and threw a quick, skeptical glance at me. "How do you know that of which I was going to say?" _

_I shrugged, lips still tightly pursed. _

_"Speak up, now. I'll have none of that." _

_My shoulders rolled as I tried to make light of it. "Many people assume that King Galbatorix – my father – is where I obtained the ability of my persuasive voice. But it isn't. He cannot do what I can, at least not without a spell or a sword in his hand."_

_Angela stopped her stir, eyes wide with keen interest. "Who is it, then, that gave you such a peculiar gift?"_

_This was the touchy part of the subject. Not even with Caden had I troubled to explain the cause of my ability. Hinted to, yes; but never outright said it. "It is right and truly my mother's. Neither of us are magical beings, but it is a strange trait we share; and she knows not where we get it from in our hereditary."_

_ "We will have to discuss this with greater detail at another time," Angela said with a surety. "But you get me off topic. And I should have told you this much earlier. But I was still uncertain…._

_"The Empire's army is numerous – much more so than our own. I cannot allow tomorrow's battle to sway away from us. So for the past few weeks I collected and stored many various poisons, and now I create a way for the Varden to grasp an advantage!"_

_I winced. "You are going to poison the army?"_

_"We are going to poison the army – tonight!" _

_"Oh." Perhaps I should not have asked. _

_Angela perceived the pale expression on my face. "Think of it as weeding a garden, Gwendolyn. And then you might not feel so sick."_

_My mouth opened to respond when out of the corner of my eye I noticed someone approaching. Turning my head for a better look, I realized it was Eragon – and behind him his dragon!_

_The sapphire beast held my full attention. The hot sun splayed dancing lights across her beautiful scales. Big, blue eyes caught my appraising gaze, and for a moment I felt faint again. But I blinked and breathed deeply to keep from passing out. _

_Eragon tensed as he neared and noticed me there. But he seemed to have resolved to tolerate me, as he greeted me first with a surprisingly civil tone. "I'm afraid we never got the proper introduction. I am Eragon Rider of Saphira."_

_I took a quick breath. "I am Gwendolyn DaughterofVerdandi."_

_ Our eyes locked, and I was sure I caught a glimpse of shock – perhaps at my not claiming my being princess. Truth be told, I too was surprised how easily that statement fell through my lips. _

_ There was more he wanted to say. Plain as day, it was plugged behind a wall that threatened to crack. But Angela interrupted us, called him out in a serious, mad manner. _

_ I heard little words as I watched the Rider. His dragon kept close beside him, and I wondered at her but was too frightened to ask. All the while, I observed to learn, to compare. An image of Caden firmly planted itself in the forefront of my mind, and I dreamed of him riding a dragon. He would be the greatest – would far succeed Eragon. I was sure of it. _

_ The sapphire dragon snorted smoke, making me jump. An eye rolled my way as if to say, _You are ridiculous.

_ Was I? _

The moment we had entered the camp, the air seemed to drop in temperature. Despite the encroaching night, I believed it had to do with the atmosphere of the camp. When men laughed, it was in a drunken state, never sober. Smiles were not truly smiles – they were bent in apathy and rage. Most moped along, grumbling about being taken from homes and wives and families, cursing the rebellion for their troubles. It depressed the sadness I already felt, but I followed Angela without pause, forcing my eyes to not see the half-sleeping solders we passed.

Little smoke drifted from the cook tent – its fabrics matching the brown-black tint of all the rest – and a faint aroma of blandly cooked chicken came as well. In nearing, a man dressed in soiled tunic and loose pants bustled out between the flaps carrying a giant cooking pot. His face told of a tired, resigned soul. He set the pot aside the tent and disappeared back inside.

We were killing so many, and I was not sure how to feel about it. So I felt nothing at all. I erased the cook's face from my memory and clutched tight to the side bag Angela had me carry. We both garbed tonight in black clothing, my face dirtied and hair hidden with blacker cloth to further hide my identity. Angela directed at me with motions to hand her the liquid poison. I found it quickly, and handed it over with pressed lips.

This time only Solembum went with Angela. Pricilla stayed by my, wide yellow eyes glowing in the dark. She touched a paw to my foot and looked up at me. _The night is chill, Gwendolyn. Can you feel the burdens of the wind?_

I bristled as she spoke. _Aye, the cold is cruel._

Her paw lifted and brushed the side of her head in one quick swipe. Pricilla's body shivered and tingled, making the long hairs stick up. _It tells to me the frozen air is as unto a fable – for however long it may contain itself, it shall always melt under the heat of the rising sun. And then it shall fade away._

At her words, the very still breeze she spoke of twisted around my body, clinging to my neck and locking my lips sealed. It seemed to reach into my chest and choke my lungs, for I could no longer breathe. _Pricilla!_

The werecat shook her head in a downcast motion, and the grip of ice and steel fell away. _I wish with my heart that would you take head of my warnings. You build up for yourself a mountain of confusion and hide behind it, never willing to bring it down. Your ability to strengthen personal walls is your only trait – as I believe it – to match up with that of Arya and her own. _

My breath puffed into a filmy cloud as I attempted to gather my bearings. As such, perhaps I only heard a part or so of what Pricilla thought. Elva had said a similar thing – I remembered – but I was doing better. Much better. Surely the situation was not as it presented itself. After all, Pricilla did have a dislike of me. Her bias muddied the truth.

So I said nothing in reply. Though her words bounced in my memory with clarity, I did not think too much into them. Rather I stared after Angela, waiting for her to return.

Pricilla uttered a squeak – a small gasp if she were a person – and pushed her head against my leg. I frowned at her before looking back and seeing the long stretches of approaching light. And people. Hastily, I fell in between the two tents I stood next to. I intended to fall far back and wait for the soldiers to pass – but then I heard their voices.

Familiar voices.

"Oh! To see the _look_ on their faces!"

It was two men, both equally tall and lanky like branches. One held a lantern inside of which glowed a seemingly stick-less candle. Its strange light lit up the faces of the men, and I sucked in a quick breath when I remembered exactly where I had seen them before….

_ "What do we have here?" It was a man, though his voice held a high timbre that gave him a feminine appeal. _

_ I looked up to see two tall men towering over me. Their closed-set eyes narrowed into curious slits, as if this put them in a peculiar situation and fettering out a solution became priority. As the moments of stiffness passed, I pinpricked their identical identities and the royal purple they both were garbed in._

_ The one closest to me shook his head at the soldiers. "And why do you imbeciles seem so incapable of shielding him from a girl." _

_ I rose to my full height – still lacking in inches, perhaps a foot, when standing next to these twins. "Pardon? And what business do you two have with him?"_

_ The other twin offered a softer smirk than his brother. "That is between us and the King, pretty one."_

_ "I am not a 'pretty one'; I am the King's daughter," I snapped. "Tell me what business you have." _

_ The smirks washed off their faces. They came preoccupied trying to keep their mouths closed and fighting the command. It was not until sweat glistened on their shiny heads that one of them blurted, "The King wished us to take him back as punishment for leaving him."_

_ … One glared at me. "What powers do you possess of, Princess? Does the King know how… persuasive you are?"_

The twins who had imprisoned Murtagh!

The brother without the lantern snickered. "Nothing would make me happier than to see that stuck up she-elf run through and through with a sword. The way she humiliated us…." He grumbled unintelligibly.

"Dear brother, we shall have our revenge soon." The men grabbed each other's shoulders and nodded in their secret agreement.

I bit my lip, fading farther into the background to avoid being glanced by the lantern light. When they passed the alley front I hid in, the twin closet to me paused. His nose screwed as if smelling a foul scent. His head turned just so towards me, though not quite enough to see me.

"Brother, what is it?" He lifted his lantern higher and its deadly rays stretched longer and thinner. Wicked fingers reaching for me. I held every breath, every blink.

The twin sniffed again, his eyes scrutinizing the air as if it were suddenly dyed pink and dotted with fanciful roses. His tone quite matched the ruining twist of his face. "Not so sure. I… feel something… smell something. It's foul and it isn't right."

_Angela's poisons,_ I thought with a sinking heart. We'd been caught.

But his brother with the lantern shrugged, chuckling a little. "Of course it isn't right. We should be in the palace surrounded by servants and sweet-smelling oils. Not sweaty men who can't tell their lefts from their rights and their expressive body odor."

"Aye, but…."

The brother swung his arm around his family. "You are tired and irritated as I. Let us, dear brother, retire to our cots and regain full rest so that when the battle arrives – and it shall be soon – we have the strength to over power and kill Nasuada and her she-elf."

The skeptical twin's eyes flung my way, and I closed my eyes tight on instinct (as if that would somehow make me more invisible!). I waited for the gasp of surprise and then their discovering of my being here. What would they do to me? Kill me? Take me back to my father?

But there was no such event. The twin sighed and mumbled an agreement, and the last I heard of them was the scuffing of their feet as they walked on. Away from me.

I sighed when I could finally no longer hear their footsteps. My mind reeled with the implications of all I had just heard. _Oh! By the heavens! They want to kill Arya! Should I warn her? Should I ignore it?_ Arya seemed as if she could handle herself. _I will have to warn Nasuada, however .We need her. Oh, where is that darned werecat?_

The cold night air forgotten, I stepped forward to exit the alley. Blood heated my veins with sudden excitement. The value of this information seemed gargantuan to me!

From the shadows of the dark, an arm whipped from behind and clamped around my mouth. It jerked me back, throwing me off my feet and into the solid chest that slammed against my back. Another arm squeezed my waist, and I gasped into the forearm across my struggling mouth.

A rough, frozen voice bit at my ear, causing shivers to quake throughout my body. The reaction made my captor smile. "Fancy running into you, beautiful, under the lovely night sky." His arm lowered and squeezed my hips.

I felt the point of a sharp nose run through my hair, felt the suck of air as he smelt deeply. "Dark, mysterious… weak… just my type, darlin'." When he ran into the cloth about my head, his throat emitted a guttural rasp. And then his fingers were tugging at the fabric, tearing it easily away. He chuckled low as my hair puffed and fell about my face.

I screamed behind his arm as loud as I could. I tried to form words that would order him away – order him dead. But my lips were firmly sealed. Any noise I made muffled and mashed into meaningless mush.

"Shh, shh," said the man. "We don't want anybody to interrupt us, now do we?"

I full intended to bite him, but the whoosh of a thick object flew faster – hit me up against the side of my head. Black spots bloomed and faded in rapid spurts, and suddenly the pain in my left temple overcame any want to bite or add pressure.

The man chomped hard on my neck, ran his teeth up the column and back down. Finally his arm dropped from my mouth, and I managed a few tiny squeaks for air. But he gave me little time to work up a scream as his hand returned and clutched my neck. His fingers pinched at my vocal chords and my wind pipe. Air vomited from my lungs, and the man threw me to the ground – only to follow quickly after.

_No!_ My mind burst at its top volume. My captor was weighty – though not fat – and pushed his body down to keep me from struggling. It was so dark; my eyes continued seeing Edrolph, remembering the way his fingers wrapped around my throat and lifted my arms up and above my head.

Why did this keep happening? To me? No!

I wriggled and squirmed but my strength fell far too short to compete with this man. I was powerless without my voice, and he had successfully made it near impossible to mumble any coherent word.

The man rubbed my chin with two of his free fingers, his face high above mine. I could barely make out the lines of a satisfied smile and the wide look in his eyes as he took in my fear and resignation.

_Angela! Please!_ I pleaded.

The angry squeal of feline snarls ripped through the heavy fog.

I saw only at first a warped look of confusion in my captor as he glanced off into the distance and perceived something odd. I struggled more, hoping to catch him off guard. But his grip tightened and brought his attentions back to me.

And then, just as he was about to attack with his lips, a graced form of hair hurled into the man. He _oofed_, his finger hold loosening slightly. He tried to maintain his grip as I took advantage of the distraction, but a wide paw slashed into his face. His howl was great; his hands flung to the wound, and he rolled partly off.

"Demented cat!" My captor growled.

Fast with reflex, he drew at an object at his waist and flung it up in warning to the hissing feline.

_Run, get away!_

Pricilla!

But my head still swooned, and I nearly fainted at the swung it took when I sat straight up. Cat and human merged into one blurry form like a whirlpool.

Pricilla screeched again as if to take the man's challenge. I thought I saw her swipe a claw at him. The man raged, raising his fist clear into the sky. His object flashed one quick moment against the light of the moon, and slashed downward. And as the shapes righted themselves in my vision, it was too late to save Pricilla from the pointed dagger as it cut into her upper belly.

Her shriek of pain carried louder than my hoarse utterance of "No!"

The man chuckled and threw off the werecat's bleeding body. His eyes turned steel on me, the dagger still grasped tight in his fist. Liquid dripped from its tip. He lunged for me and tackled me back into the ground.

"Angela!" I tried to shout. But my voice faltered.

My captor and I wrestled on the floor. My arms attempted to hold him away, but his empty hand was quickly gaining power over me. The dagger loomed above.

"Stop fighting, weak wench!"

"No!"

His chest fell on mine, knocking out the little air in my lungs. I didn't care though, as I fought to push him off me. Closer the dagger tip came, and soon I was grasping for it as well.

I thought he meant to stab me when his fisted hand fell to my waist, and I felt the cold, wet dagger tip breach my cloak and undergarments, and press against my side. I braced for the puncture, pleading now for a swift death.

My cease of movement encouraged him. The blade slipped up my torso, ripping the seams of my clothes. I began to struggle again for control of the weapon.

"You loose your battle."

"No!"

As the blade reached my under pit, I gained I small advantage. The man lifted just slightly, and I managed to roll awkwardly on my side. Pain reared in my chest and shoulders. My fingers gripped at empty space, squirmed to find purchase. I gritted my teeth and thrust my fingers towards the blade.

_Ack!_ Sharp edges glanced the length of my middle finger, and it twisted in rampant jerks as my captor tried to retain control of his weapon. My heart screamed with life and death tugging at my vision. Memories kept interrupting me, reminding me of things left undone, of the many things I regretted.

Caden.

I would live to see him again.

This would not be the end of me!

With a clenched jaw and angry mutter, I reached for the dagger, ignoring the deep cuts into my hand. My fingers climbed until they reached the hilt. I tilted more onto my side. The man growled and tugged one last heavy pull.

And lost his handling.

It was only a short second. But enough for my to fully grasp the dagger handle and rotate it so it point away from me. Then, using my elevated side and shoulder, I threw myself onto my back again – this time heaving the pointed blade onto my chest.

A flash of fear hit the man's eyes –a fear of surreal understanding. My ears – all my senses – were blocked. Ignored. I went with instinct. I pushed the dagger up into the man's chest, dug through as hard as I could. His jaw dropped in noiseless pain. He froze for a moment, starring up into the night, and then collapsed onto the blade, driving finally into his heart.

My fingers didn't seem to process how covered with slick blood they were until my eyes saw the crimson color themselves. When I finally found the strength to, I heaved the dead weight off my body and rolled away completely from him. And even then, I did not seem to have the time to process what exactly I had done.

A sharp snap of ugly, unique cursing rang out from behind me, and I jumped in fear. Then a firm hand rested on my shoulder and rotated me back. It was Angela, emotions strange and other converged onto her face.

"I….I…" It hurt to breath – let alone speak.

Angela shook her head at me and moved a few feet ahead. She knelt beside the limp, bloody form of Pricilla. She lay in heap beside the tent edge, her small breast rising and falling with each struggling breath. Liquid soaked the earth under and around her.

"We must… we have… must… save…." I coughed a mighty fit.

Solembum leapt to the side of his companion and licked her face. Angela slid out of her cloak, underneath of which was still black garment, bent over to Pricilla, and wrapped her like a babe.

Without looking to me, the herbalist said, "Come. She still lives. But we run out of time. If we are to save her, we must run with quick speed out of this camp. I will run with you till we are a safe distance, at which point I will sprint much faster than you."

I nodded, forcing myself to my feet despite the wave of dizziness.

"I will send Eragon for you, and he shall bring you to my tent. There we shall tend to your wounds as well."

I wheezed as I continued nodding.

Cradling Pricilla to her chest, Angela maneuvered her hand to get into an invisible pocket against her side. She pulled out a small vial and handed it to me.

"Drink it. It will help you run the distance you must."

For once, I did as asked without question. Popping off the vial top, I guzzled the brownish contents with vigor. Zing rushed through my veins, and immediately the sore aches melted away.

Our legs started out hot. Angela did not keep a slow pace, and without her enhancer, I would have stumbled far behind. Perhaps died even. The tents smudged together like an ink blot, and I wondered if any soldiers would notice us. Regardless, it didn't seem to be an issue at the speed we were going. Not even the fridge fingers of ice could slow us.

Eventually, we flowed out into the expanse of the burning plains. It was black except for the weak path of the moon through the smoky haze and the green burst of flames that belched from deep in the ill earth. And as Angela promised, once we were a mile or so from my father's set camp, her running speed increased like that of a loosed arrow. One moment she was knocked, and the next she was slicing through the air with the precision of a fine arrowhead.

_Oh, Pricilla,_ I lamented once I was alone. Angela's enhancer was beginning to wear. I could feel the burn in my throat once more. _How I have wronged you!_

The tips of the Varden's camp became visible after a half hour or so alone on the Burning Plains. All the while, my imagination let loose. Creatures feigned pouncing on me from every angle. All shadows were a man smirking in the darkness.

Too soon, I felt, I lost all energy. The world spin in five different ways, each unique and with their own levels of pain. The last, however, proved the most excruciating. It gave quite the swinging glance of the red-orange earth as it rose high and punched my head.

As the black arms of the void embraced me, distorted shapes of blue grew larger and larger….

**A/N: I know! Cliffy! I'm so bad! I tried not to end it like that, and I originally intended to push it farther, but Gwen passed out on me -_-, poor girl. **

**If the cliffy truly is killing you, I'll give you a little secret. It is well known to me that reviews (not necessarily straight praise) can sometimes push me to write an entire chapter in a single sitting. That happened with this chapter, actually. And not with a review, but seeing someone recommend this story in theirs. (You have no idea how giddy that made me...) **

**Emotions? What're you feeling? Are you feelings at all? Or are you all like, "Why am I still reading this story! It's going nowhere! And Caden is gone! (He was the best :-O, how could you!)" **

**As always, love your thoughts!**


	27. Chapter 27

**Well, here's the next installment. Thanks for all the reviews, even though it wasn't my best chapter. Really appreciate it, and I even went back and edited some sections (which is rare for me, since I've pushed most of the editing to when I'm actually done with this). **

**I put a lot of work into this, so I hope you all enjoy it! **

**Also, I give full credit to Christopher Palioni for the IC world and his writing. Don't sue me please. **

_"Gwendolyn, what is it you wished to tell me?" Caden gave an encouraging smile, pulling me into his arms. _

_ My head swayed and felt as if it was trudging through thick mud when it lifted to meet Caden's piercing gaze . Though the weight of the world was pressing against my chest, Caden managed to lift me to a higher state of feeling. _

_ "Remember, I will always love you… no matter what ails you," he continued, and then placed a hand on my face. _

_ I could do it this time. _

_ I would do it! _

_ "Caden, I am so grateful you feel this way." My eyes dropped from his, and I nearly felt shy. "I do, too. But there is a matter of which I must come clean about."_

_ "Go on."_

_ I swallowed hard, suddenly agitated and nervous. "Remember in Urû'baen when you were a prisoner, and I asked for your assistance?" When he nodded (he pulled his face down to mine and began to run his nose through my hair and kiss it), I added, "I said to you that Kharisa and Ayame were dead due to the nature of Edrolph…."_

_ Here it was. Say it. _

_ "I lied, Caden. Kharisa and Ayame are still alive."_

_ Something of a whoosh pushed Caden away. Like a dark, ominous storm, blackness began to converge. Its cloud surrounded Caden before he could react to my words, before he could say a word. And suddenly, I was being thrust backwards –_

_ And fell. _

"Fast! Awaken!" The shrill, insistent voice threw me out of the dream – took me away from Caden. Took me before he could reply. "There be a battle soon to take place, and I wish for you not to slumber through it! Do not you care the vitality of our dear werecat friend! Awaken!"

I wrestled with my eyes, trying to open them as they attempted to seal shut and forever slumber. _Caden! Tell me how you feel! Do you hate me? Banish me? Don't leave me now!_ The dream – clipped like the bud of a rose before it could bloom – weighed like stone on my heart. My limbs quailed with some leftover fear, and I felt the need to scream and defend myself.

"Oh, dear thing."

"She writhes like a man under the thumb of fate," said a young, male voice. It tilted in concern , almost in question.

"Blockhead! Why are you still here?" Finally, I recognized Angela's blasting dialogue as she ordered the young man out of the vicinity.

With heavy reluctance, my eyelids pulled up, and the world opened to me in a hazy fog of smudged colors. The thick scent of spice and blood shot up my nose, snapping my mind into quicker awareness. I saw Angela kneeling beside me with a conflicted frown, her hair engulfing most of her face as if to hide her expression.

"Angela?" My voice cracked at the first syllable and faded into a mesh of crackle and hiss.

The herbalist straightened up, pushing her hair to the side, and gathered herself together. She was dressed for armed battle in green armor, fists so clenched her knuckled were white. "How is your head?"

I shrugged and then winced at the soreness of the muscles there.

"Try to sit up – slowly, or you'll only fall."

Most every section above my hips protested as I crunched up and into a sitting position. Though stiff at first, the muscles loosened with each further movement.

The roof of a tent hovered over us and blocked out the shine of the moon. Night had not passed – or else I had slept the whole entire day. I questioned Angela on this, and she explained: "It is only a handful of hours after you were attacked. I've managed to stabilize Pricilla and because I believe I have done all I can for her, I leave her under your watch."

Too numb to argue, I nodded.

"I am unsure of the complete damage sustained to your voice, Gwendolyn." As she spoke, Angela stood and took a step towards the tent exit. "But if it refuses to heal naturally on its own, then we shall have Arya or Eragon heal it."

I wanted to inquire of when she would return – surely a battle would not last too long? But Angela strode quickly out of the tent and into the cold night.

When she left, my eyes roamed the innards of the tent, and I realized it was the one Caden and I used. However, there was added within a makeshift cushion at the foot of my mattress where a solid black mass lay.

_Pricilla_.

Images from my attack dug their sharp, ugly heads into my gut. They twisted and burrowed like daggers; I saw it all over again – saw his dark face lunge at me like a viper, felt his fingers crush my throat, smelt the blood that poured from his chest.

_No!_

I struggled against a ghost, tried to thrust the memories away. But they latched onto me like leeches and began sucking me dry. Screaming did nothing – my voice was a pathetic rasp.

_Get off, get off, no!_

I fought until the corner of my eyes crusted with dry tears, and my cheeks were lathered wet with uneven layers. I fought until my lungs could no longer breathe, and I whizzed and coughed till black spots punched my vision. Nothing could save me – no one would save me. Alone. I was alone!

I shuddered and hiccupped, feeling the tight bandages on my right hand that left it immovable. Over and over, I prayed to whatever heavenly powers existed that Caden would return to me alive. I knew he would protect me, hold me till the nightmares dissolved like water under the hot, balmy sun.

_Shh, silence….._

This was not my thought. I froze with fear.

_Calm yourself. You once said sight of me warmed you._

I could not think of whose voice carried such thick undertones of sadness and pride. But it stirred emotion deep in my chest, as if embracing me with knowledge I failed to recognize.

_Stay still and rest your heart. This will take but a moment._

Before I could question – or even process the words – a bright, red crackle of light shocked me. Like lightning, it exploded the sky with noon day brightness. My body quivered and shook like a plucked violin string faster than I could register the pain.

And just as soon as the light had struck, it was gone.

My lungs gasped for air, only to cough it up like bile. Clutching my rapidly churning stomach, I doubled over and fell onto the ground.

The dirt ground.

"I'd prefer we not have to meet this way," said the brusque voice from my head.

I scrambled upright and tried to find its owner. But the light temporarily blinded me, and all I could see was a wall of profound black.

A dark, heavy gloved hand reached out through it and toward me and touched two fingers to my neck. "Waíse heill."

Something hot like iron seared the skin there, but rather than bring pain, it brought relief to the hurt in my throat. It itched and squirmed and came back together like stitch work, and then the heat was gone. The fingers retreated, and the black fog dissipated like morning mist.

_Murtagh_.

"It is you," I said hushed.

But, in many ways, it was not the same man I once knew. In standing before me, his chest puffed, shoulders hard and tense. His jaw clenched, gritting his teeth. And he looked on me as if revisiting a painful memory.

I cried. The tears refused to remain tame behind my eyes and rushed down my face with hot vigor.

Murtagh sighed, and I heard more than saw him hit his knees and shuffle beside me. He reached out his hand but this time hesitated as if a barrier prevented him from touching me.

"Where am I?" I inquired, gaining control of my abrupt emotions. "I must watch over Pricilla; she is not well."

Murtagh pulled back his hand and cleared his throat. "You killed one of my men," he said, clearly evading my question.

I shook my head as it began to pound. "He tried to rape me. I defended myself. I didn't think on it!" The hysteria in my tone rose higher as so many implications rushed into clarity as I spoke them. I wanted to vomit.

Crushing his fist, Murtagh swore.

"How did you know it was me?"

"When that loony herbalist raced you from the camp, you caught many eyes. Only I or someone who so thoroughly knew you would be able to depict your identity through the memory of others," was his reply.

"But you cannot –"

"I am not who you once knew." He said this with bite and spite, growling the undertones.

I shrunk from him. "Then I wish not to see you."

Murtagh sucked in a shocked breath through clenched teeth, staring down at me with wide eyes swimming with hurt and misunderstanding.

I wondered who this new man was. Physical changes were hard to describe and make out due to the night sky, but it was beginning to lighten as the minutes stretched long. Steel-clad in armor, Murtagh wore the features of a tortured warrior. His hair dangled and toppled over his face and ears, unkempt and wind blown. Behind him were the outlines of sparse trees and bushes.

"Why are you here, Murtagh?"

He turned his head, grunting. "Your Father has given the order."

"But you never…. _No_…." I understood. For the first time in my life, my father's uncanny tendency to control the will of others sickened the very depths of my soul, bruised my soiled heart, and squeezed two more tears from my sticky eyes.

"Aye," he growled.

"Has he sent you after me?" 

Murtagh barked a strange laugh, perhaps of pity, saying, "Nay, for he has no use of you as of yet. Though don't expect your lovely nobleman and your mother to offer you the same courtesy."

I winced. "How is mother?"

He shrugged as if the information meant no matter to him. "Who shall ever know what flies through her mad mind…. I fear not even King Galbatorix knows."

"She has gone mad?"

Murtagh gave a grim grin. "That is of my personal opinion."

My head began to pound, pressure from my tears leaving my forehead ready to explode. With a shaky, uncertain voice, I dared asked, "Why then find me? What use am I to you?"

Standing, Murtagh scoffed and cracked his knuckles. "From whatever goodness is buried deep – deeper than hell, I fear – within me, I decided to do you a favorable service, Princess." He muttered a string of words and the ground by his feet shuddered and fell like loose sand, revealing a body with its head turned away from me. I deduced from the broad shoulders, boxy frame, and shorter hair that it was a man.

Murtagh touched the man with his armored foot. "Fool he is to try anything over me. He tried stabbing me from the back with his measly dagger point. With a simple arm flick, I had him crashed into a pile of rubble and ash. Would have left him there, as well, had I not recognized him as a… friend of yours." He leaned down and rotated the head so I could see the slack, dirtied face.

"_Oh_!" I cried out in dismay.

Caden….

Murtagh sidestepped as I rushed forward and kneeled beside the utterly familiar blonde head. My fingers brushed his scratched cheekbone and purple eye. He moaned weakly at my touch, eyes squinting and arms quaking.

"Consider this my gift to you, Princess," Murtagh continued. "For years past."

"He is hurt! Murtagh, I cannot heal him."

Fog darkened his steel cold eyes. "Nor shall I care to. Leave that for your elf ambassador or your witty herbalist. I've done all I ever shall for you."

I jumped and threw my arms around him before he could fall away. Murtagh tensed so harshly at my embrace – as if I were a stranger – that I nearly expected him to strike me down. "Thank you, then, Murtagh. Forever am I grateful."

Murtagh grabbed my upper arms and forced me away like a clingy child. Setting me down on my feet, he ordered, "Take him at least partly into your arms and I will transfer the both of you back to whence you came."

I gasped. "You have such power?"

My inquiry saddened him and all he responded was a low string of curses and, "Power you will never know."

His answer was so clipped and ugly, I fell beside Caden without extra thought. Pulling Caden's head into my lap, I glanced once more at Murtagh, saying nothing but mourning with my eyes.

Murtagh glared as his mouth formed unfamiliar words, and the lightning struck again.

And when the blinding light faded and I was once again inside a Varden tent, I collapsed beside Caden and crumpled inward at the mounting, inner pain.

* * *

**Murtagh**

_I cannot bare to ever have her see me this way._ I sighed in Thorn's saddle, glancing at the angle of the sun every other moment.

_But what we want is something the both of us lack,_ Thorn mused.

It was nearly our time. The heat of the day was passing into early evening, and soon the signal would be given.

_Eragon will never survive under the King's thumb_, I thought with dark edges. A part of me whished to see this happen, to watch him writher and die as I had done. But there grew a pit inside my heart that echoed the horror of Gwendolyn's words:

_"I am not who you once knew."_

_"Then I wish not to see you."_

Had I truly terrified her so? Had corruption leaked into my soul and bruised it to mush? For all the revulsion of my past, it crushed my heart to think I'd lost Gwendolyn – the last piece of good that had been my childhood.

As loud as the thunder of the battle, blood pumped between my ears. Adrenaline at fighting my newfound brother with these enhanced abilities. Repugnance at the act I knew I was going to perform today. Worry, even – and not for myself, or even Gwen (as I trusted her character to not have shifted too much that she would participate in war) – for Nasuada…..

It panged to think of her, so I often ignored such reminders. But today I allowed all the anguish to roll into my body and strengthen my endurance.

What I felt for her was muffled and bewildering. In some ways, it proved similar to my feelings for Gwen. Only… more so. Nasuada had energy and a commanding power within her that attracted to me. While Gwen could be snarky and overall a little brat, Nasuada was authoritative without having to whine or plead. She worked for it. Made it all her own. In Farthen Dûr, it was only after one meeting that my mind wrapped Nasuada in the grab of the highest of Noblewomen – a Queen, even. I respected her.

But what she thought of me now? After I had nursed her trust and acquired a fraction of her affection? If she was a witness to today, she would hate me. Or, at the very least, feel bitter towards me for my actions. This was betrayal in one of its most ugly forms.

As I continued to mule over my trampled heart, Thorn held his tongue. He loathed to see me in such inner pain, most especially after Galbatorix had immersed me in one of his cruelest tricks. Because of the King, I dared not dream. He'd poisoned every image behind closed lids that moment he had let me believe Nasuada and I were wedded.

_Murtagh._ Thorn nudged against the side of my conscious, and I surface from the depths of my thoughts.

In the distance, drums battered with crescendo. Gripping my hand-and-a-half sword, I muttered, _Let us do this._

Thorn uttered a low growl and thrust with his back legs into the open air. His wings flapped on either side, lifting us to great height. Wind whipped at the metal of my helm, stung my eyes. But I did not flinch – rather took breath of it and sharpened my senses.

Below us, the clash of metal and flesh, of screams, shouts, and roars grew louder. Many men were paused in their battle, watching with engulfing fear the sight of mighty Thorn converging on their war. Pride welled within my chest at their terror.

Thorn evened his wings, and we glided for a moment. I casted my gaze about, my heightened vision quick to find my target. This would not end well, I knew. But it was the only solution for the time, one that bought me time.

Galbatroix's magic – his lessons, his tortures – jumped fast from my mind to my tongue. I slathered the words with deep emotion and a satisfied smile tugged at the corner of my lips as the spell took form in my palm, shot ahead like a lightning bolt, and struck the Dwarf King Hrothgar.

Around him, his protectors fell first in unison, crying out in surprise. Then the King clutched his breast, eyes wide with fear and shock, and tumbled over a pile of fallen soldiers.

_It is done,_ I thought, strangely feeling little at the dwarf's death.

Just then, a sharp, angered mind attempted to thrust itself into my barriers and break them. Gritting my teeth more with annoyance than actual pain, I retaliated with my own spear, digging it into his own walls. I grinned when he recoiled.

From below, Saphira was fast approaching, wings flapping with fierce determination. The orange sunlight bounced off her scales and armor, scattering little blinding lights every which way. Thorn _harrumphed_, ignoring the beauty he saw, and braced himself for the inevitable collision.

Thorn and Saphira crashed together like hurtling boulders. I strained my muscles against the saddle to keep from being thrown off from the jarring smash. As such, I lost hold on Eragon's mind and fled into my own.

_Focus…._

The two dragons wrestled with vigor and vengeance, kicking and biting and snarling. Thorn's talons screeched high pitched when they scratched Saphira's armor. She was bigger and tried to snag his neck in her maw, but Thorn, stockier than she, managed to shove her off – only to hurtle his legs and tail at her again.

We descended at a rapid pace as Thorn struggled to find purchase in her long throat. Fifty yards from the ground, however, the two disengaged and pumped their wings upward to regain altitude. Saphira snapped her head at us and let loose a stream of fiery blaze.

_Weak_. I chuckled. Thorn's wards veered the fire twelve feet from his body. Then he released his own torrent of molten flames, the lights flashing against Saphira's armor.

In the saddle, Eragon shouted a quick phrase that twisted the fire all about them.

I grasped the saddle as Thorn jerked straight up into the sky, breaking through the smog and smoke. Saphira was quick behind him, fast approaching. To which Thorn admired for a sliver of a moment.

Looping back and over, rotating like a spitted piece of meat, curving and corkscrewing: the dragons tried every possible route to gaining even the slightest edge. But when one dragon executed a move, the other managed to pull ahead just in time and maneuver their own counter acrobatics. The spinning and twisting did not phase me, however, and I took the opportunity to attack Eragon's mind.

Again, I was met with surprise. His walls bent inward like clay under my power, and I pressed harder to drive my spike into his consciousness.

Thorn dove down towards Saphira, angling beneath her. I looked up and nearly gasped at the idiotic stunt Eragon pulled.

He was freefalling.

_Blast it!_

Eragon wore a strange grin as he threw out his arms and legs like wings and flew down at Thorn, who tried to maneuver away from him. But Eragon's sword came faster, and I gasped as my dragon roared when Zar'roc stabbed and sliced into Thorn's hamstring. Thorn kicked, thrusting Eragon off and spinning like a coin through the empty air.

_You fool!_ I raged. _You'll pay for that!_

To the side, Saphira rushed by, speeding to her rider. Thorn dived after, seeing the opening in her defense.

_Thorn, are you –_

_I will survive_, Thorn grunted.

I groaned but acquiesced.

Thorn cut through the cloud cover just as Eragon settled back into Saphira's saddle. They looked up at our decent and, immediately, Saphira flapped out from under us. Thorn blocked her escape, nipping and buffeting his wings. The two snarled and reached for every attack opportunity until their tongue drooped from their mouths and both were simply gliding in the sky.

_This will end soon_, I promised Thorn, hating the mounting discomfort his body endured. It was then I saw Saphira shift down and descend to the right.

_They go to flat ground. The Rider means to challenge you on the plateau_. Thorn snorted but followed the blue dragoness to an even mesa where he landed ever so carefully on three of his paws. I growled as Thorn snarled when pain exploded in his flank.

Eragon, stupid fool that he was, simply watched as I dismounted and turned to Thorn's aggravating injury. I ignored him for the moment and concentrated on Thorn, muttering the needed phrase to heal the gash.

_Thank you._

_He will pay for such a wound._

A look of confusion and awe crossed Eragon's face. I felt a jittery rush knowing he did not realize my identity. He grasped the hilt of Zar'roc, bracing for the fight to come, and stepped forward to meet me.

In the center of the plateau, we stared at each other – the dragons circling around us with grim expressions. And then I lunged, striking Eragon overhead. He blocked with the gleaming, red blade, and the friction wrought shrieking, crimson sparks.

Perhaps Eragon thought he was clever. I grinned. My opponent leapt into a complex series of attacks that I allowed to push me towards the edge of the mesa. Then I redoubled my efforts, paring his blows with stronger blocks that I knew shocked his arms. With little pause, I began pushing us began into the center.

One step.

Two steps.

Eragon grew weaker. But he held his ground. Through his eyes, I could see the ultimate determination ironed into his very being. And despite his wariness, he clung to it in each blow we exchanged.

Finally, however, Eragon slipped under his footing and crashed onto the ground. Dazed, he blinked, but then rolled back onto his feet and stabbed at me. With a flourished flick of the wrist, I tossed Zar'roc aside.

_Should we do as planned?_ I thought to Thorn, frowning at my dear little brother.

Before the dragon could answer, however, clarity rushed into Eragon, and he exclaimed, "I know you!" He pounced at me, trapping our blades between us, hooked his fingers under my helm, and ripped it from my head.

I was sickly satisfied at the horrified shock the flooded his boyish expression. Grinning, I said, "Thrysta vindr", sending a hard ball of air into Eragon's chest and throwing him twenty feet.

My jaw tensed, watching Eragon curl into himself. _Pathetic._ I lowered my sword and raised a condemning finger at him. "You never would give up."

A chill of recognition washed over him, one that I did not understand and ignored. Then Eragon forced himself to stand, coughing and uttering a weak inquiry: "Murtagh… how can you still be alive? I watched the Urgals drag you underground. I tried to scry you but only saw darkness."

Chuckling without humor, I said, "You saw nothing, just as I saw nothing the times I tried to scry you during my days in Urû'baen."

"You _died_, though!" cried Eragon, not grasping my words. "You died under Farthen Dûr. Arya found your bloody clothes in the tunnels."

My face melted into a glower. "No, I did not die. It was the Twin's doing, Eragon. They took control of a group of Urgals and arranged the ambush in order to kill Ajihad and capture me. Then they ensorcelled me so I could not escape and spirited me off to Urû'baen."

Still, Eragon would not comprehend. He shook his head vigorously. "But why did you agree to serve Galbatorix? You told me you hated him. You told me –"

"Agree?" I laughed, feeling the snap of insanity in the back of my mind. "I did not _agree_. First Galbatorix punished me for spiting his years of protection during my upbringing in Urû'baen, for defying his will and running away. Then he extracted everything I knew about you, Saphira, and the Varden."

"You betrayed us! I was mourning you, and you betrayed us!"

"I had no choice."

"Ajihad was right to lock you up. He should have let you rot in your cell, then none of this –"

"I had no choice!" Eragon was beginning to grate dangerously against my nerves. "And after Thorn hatched for me, Galbatorix forced both of us to swear loyalty to him in the ancient language. We cannot disobey him now."

Eragon clenched his fists, something the mix of pit and disgust rising his in anger. "You have become your father."

_Ha!_ I felt a grin pull at my face. "No, not my father. I'm stronger than Morzan ever was. Galbatorix taught me things about magic you've never even dreamed of…. Spells so powerful, the elves dare not utter them, cowards that they are. Words in the ancient language that were lost until Galbatorix discovered them. Ways to manipulate energy…. Secrets, terrible secrets, that can destroy your enemies and fulfill all your desires."

"Things that should remain secrets," Eragon retorted.

"If you knew, you would not say that. Brom was a dabbler, nothing more. And the elves, bah! All they can do is hide in the forest and wait to be conquered." My eyes nitpicked the new details that sprang forth as I looked Eragon over. "You look like an elf now. Did Islanzadí do that to you?"

Eragon was silent.

Shrugging, I said, "No matter. I'll learn the truth soon enough."

Suddenly, my limbs zipped with an unpleasant jolt. _The Twins…._ My eyes twisted towards the east and fell upon the mad magicians as they slaughtered soldiers this way and that. They stood on a mount of dead flesh, laughing in glee. Behind them, however, was a man crawling up to their side completely unnoticed.

Eragon frowned, and I realized he knew this man personally. He opened his mouth (I guessed correctly that he wished to cast a spell), I stopped him. "Wait. I want to see what he'll do."

"Why?"

A morbid smile cut across my face. "The Twins enjoyed tormenting me when I was their captive."

Eragon glanced at me with suspicious eyes. "You won't hurt him? You won't warn the Twins?"

"Vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal." Upon my word as a Rider.

We watched in silence as the man scrambled behind a pile of dead bodies. The Twins looked his direction, which made Eragon stiffen, but they did not see him. When they turned away, the man jumped from his hiding place. He swung down his hammer hard on the nearest Twin, bashing open his skull. The remaining Twin toppled to the ground, uttering a wordless scream as he convulsed and met his end under the blunt of the hammer. Then the man planted a foot on the corpses, raised his weapon over his head, and bellowed his victory.

_Well done,_ I thought to Thorn, mildly impressed.

Eragon turned to me, stress putting his teeth on edge. "What now? Are you here to kill me?"

I suppressed a scoff. "Of course not. Galbatorix wants you alive."

"What for?"

I had to smile at this, whether at the stupidity of Eragon or the genius of Galbatorix, though, I knew not. "You don't know? Ha! There's a fine jest. It's not because of you; it's because of _her_." I pointed at Saphira. "The dragon inside Galbatorix's last egg, the last dragon egg in the world, is male. Saphira is the only female dragon in existence. If she breeds, she will be the mother of her entire race. Do you see now? Galbatorix doesn't want to eradicate the dragons. He wants to use Saphira to rebuild the Riders. He can't kill you, either of you, if his vision is to become reality…. And what a vision it is, Eragon. You should hear him describe it, then you might not think so badly of him. Is it evil that he wants to reunite Alagaësia under a single banner, eliminate the need of war, and restore the Riders?"

"He's the one who destroyed the Riders in the first place!"

"And for good reason," I insisted. "They were old, fat, and corrupt. The elves controlled them and used them to subjugate humans. They had to be removed so that we could start anew."

Something in my words set Eragon off, and a furious scowl screwed his face. His legs leapt into a vigorous pace to and fro as heat billowed from Eragon's lips. "How can you justify causing so much suffering on the basis of a madman's ravings?" he demanded, gesturing out to the battlefield. "Galbatorix has done nothing but burn and slaughter and amass power for himself. You _know_ this! It's why you refused to work for him in the first place." Eragon paused, and then his tone gentled, smoothing over his anger. "I can understand that you were compelled to act against your will and that you aren't responsible for killing Hrothgar. You can try to escape, though. I'm sure that Arya and I could devise a way to neutralize the bounds Galbatorix has laid upon you…. Join me, Murtagh. You could do so much for the Varden. With us, you would be praised and admired, instead of cursed, feared, and hated."

It struck a chord buried inside me, its music muffled and thrown out of key by the bonds of the King. My eyes fell, staring at the notches of my sword. Seeing it welled another anger to the surface – of who we were, Eragon and I. Brothers. He was younger than I, weaker than I. He knew _nothing_ of my plight.

"You cannot help me, Eragon. No one but Galbatorix can release us from our oaths, and he will never do that…. He knows our true names, Eragon…. We are his slaves forever."

Eragon contemplated me. Sympathy touched his eyes as I knew they would. Despite the physical changes, Eragon had truly shifted little from the last time we'd met. But his next words shocked me: "Then let us kill the two of you."

"Kill us! Why should we allow that?" The nerve of him….

"It would free you from Galbatorix's control. And it would save the lives of hundreds, if not thousands, of people. Isn't that a noble enough cause to sacrifice yourself for?"

I shook my head. "Maybe for you, but life is still too sweet for me to part with it so easily. No stranger's life is more important than Thorn's or my own."

I saw it before it happened – the resolve that soaked into Eragon. He propelled his mind forward, trying to subdue me, as he lunged forward with Zar'rac and aimed for my chest.

"Letta!" I growled.

Eragon stuck to the ground and held fast to the mesa with invisible bonds. Saphira let loose a torrent of licking flames, jumping into the air like a wicked cat.

"Rïsa!" And so too did the dragoness freeze midair, clutched in my grip.

From below, Eragon shouted, "Brakka du vanyalí sem huildar Saphira un eka!"

His spell had no strong effect against me, and I challenged him with a flat, unnerving stare. We stayed like that for only a couple of minutes. During which, Eragon struggled to hold his magic. His limbs shuddered at the great strain, until finally he released the spell.

"You cannot hope to compete with me," I said. "No one can, except for Galbatroix." Brandishing my sword, I strode up to Eragon and pressed the pointed tip against his throat. It pierced lightly but enough to draw blood. "It would be so easy to take you back to Urû'baen."

He gaze bore deep into me, trying to unsettle my morals, my fate. "Don't. Let me go."

"You just tried to kill me."

"And you would've done the same in my position." Eragon paused, as if waiting for a response. But I remained unmoved, save for the guilt worming its way under my thick hide. "We were friends once. We fought together. Galbatorix can't have twisted you so much that you've forgotten…. If you do this, Murtagh, you'll be lost forever."

Silence preceded his heavy words. Eragon would not move for fear of splitting more skin on his neck. All around us, the noises of war ravaged on, unaffected. Saphira thrashed her tail in an helpless attempt to free herself.

_I once told Gwendolyn she needed to escape,_ I mused to Thorn. _I told her I nearly become a hope to people. But I'm not._

Thorn said nothing.

_And for all the anger and pain that thought causes me, it will forever remain the truth. But Eragon… he is the beacon the Varden look to…. He is their hope. He is Gwen's hope…. Nasuada's hope._

Finally, as if detached from the sane world and floating in a dreamscape, I said, "I was ordered to try and capture you and Saphire…. I have tried…. Make sure we don't cross paths again. Galbatorix will make me swear additional oaths in the ancient langue that will prevent me from showing you such mercy when we next meet." My sword lowered.

"You're doing the right thing," Eragon said. He tried to move but kept still in the grip of the bonds.

"Perhaps. But before I let you go…." With a perverse pleasure ridding up my spine, I reached down and pried Zar'roc from Eragon's fist. Then I unbuckled its gleaming sheath from his belt. "If I have become my father, then I will have my father's blade. Thorn is my dragon, and a thorn he shall be to all our enemies. It is only right, then, that I should wield the sword _Misery._ Misery and Thorn, a fit match. Besides, Zar'roc should have gone to Morzan's eldest son, not his youngest. It is mine by right of birth."

Satisfaction boiled in the pit of my stomach at the horror that washed over Eragon's face.

A cruel smile grew on my lips. "I never told you my mother's name, did I? And you never told me yours. I'll say it now: Selena. Selena was my mother and your mother. Morzan was our father. The Twins figured out the connection while they were digging around in your head. Galbatorix was quite interested to learn that particular piece of information."

"You're lying!" The utter anguish harmed Eragon more than any blows I had dealt to him today.

I shook my head and repeated it all in the ancient language - the language of no lies. And then, lowering myself to him and placing my lips beside his ear, I whispered, "You and I, we are the same, Eragon. Mirror images of one another. You can't deny it."

Eragon growled. "You're wrong." He struggled against the invisible chains. "We're nothing alike. I don't have the scar on my back anymore."

It was the equivalent to a blow to my midsection, the words he uttered. _Not have the scar? _I resisted the urge to spit at him, instead pulling Zar'roc to my chest, my face hard and cold. "So be it. I take my inheritance from you, brother. Farewell."

And with that, I retrieved me helm from where it had bounced, climbed onto Thorn, and took off into the horizon.

**By the way, never am I writing such a long scene in another POV from the books again, I swear (and watch me eat those words... :-( )**

**How was it? We'll find out more about what exactly happened to Caden (because if I hadn't had Murtagh bring him back, I realized Caden would've died and never come back - and I can't let that happen. Love the guy too much), but that's next chapter. **

**As for Angela, I know she's been super OOC recently, but Gwen gets to see a more 3-D type Angela that Eragon never really got to. She is right now frustrated, muddled, determined, angry... lots of things. And she knew Pricilla was stable, as was Gwen, so it didn't bother her so much to leave them alone and go fight. So be gentle about her...**

**Please review! As I've progressed, so has the reviewing, and its made me fell so amazing! Love it! **


	28. Chapter 28

**Thanks for all the responses to the last chapter, guys! **

**Not my best chapter, really; mostly filler, but its emotional in all my best fashions, lol, so maybe you won't feel too bored; **

**Enjoy!**

**Gwendolyn**

Angela would tell me nothing.

Deep into the heart of the evening, the sun casting its molten fingers over the sea of anguish and loss that permeated the Varden, Angela returned to my tent. Her expression resembled that of a drained glass – forgotten of its purpose. For a moment, I wondered if she even noticed my being there. Her first destination was to kneel beside Pricilla and look over her health.

The sadness etched there, how slowly she moved and worked, made my heart lurch inside my chest. _Have we lost then? Is this all for naught?_ I thought of what would become of me should I ever be returned to Urû'baen. Surely Mother would lock me a tower, never to step foot outside again. Should it all be worth it, then? Or was I a fool to try and escape fate?

Caden groaned from the mattress, and my eyes fell instantly to see what hurt. He had not once woken today but rolled and squinted and trembled. Often, I wiped the sweat from his brow and dried his skin. I was worried he caught a fever and these were the beginning signs, so I was very grateful to see Angela stumble into the tent. I tried speaking with her.

"Oh gracious, Angela, you wouldn't believe what happened today – other than the battle, obviously. Pricilla has done alright, I am glad to say. She woke twice with minimal pain, drank some water I fetched, and then fell right back to sleep." I would have continued to ramble had Angela not raised a hand to me.

"I trust it went well," she said, a clear statement that she did want to hear my report.

Swallowing, I ventured, "How did the battle go today? You seem rather worn out."

"That depends on one's definition of 'won', child." Angela turned to face me, a shadow glancing her frowning face. "There were many lives lost this day on both sides. The Burning Plains are forever stained with their blood and flesh. Gore-crows and vultures feast tonight on their entrails and eyes." She sighed, seeming to reign in a dark mood that threatened to overtake her. "While I am proud of the work I have done today, I mourn for many more lives that will be lost in order to topple the King. Homes that will burn. Families that will be torn apart…. These coming months shall take their toll on everyone – including, if not especially you. After today… you have no choice in backing out. Here your heart shall stay forever, else you be ripped to bits by your own madness."

"Oh," was all I could manage. My hand roamed until it found Caden's, and I squeezed. His palm was sweaty and hot, but I found myself caring little as I needed the comfort.

"Take heart in my words," said Angela as she touched the fur on Pricilla's back, "'tis better a fate than falling prey to mad rabbits and men with pointy teeth."

Caden's fingers wriggled in my grip, alerting me to his waking.

"Oh!"

He laid full on the bed, stripped of clothing down to his short pants. At the time, I hadn't thought of whether he'd be embarrassed once he woke up – he'd been burning like paper to flame – but now heat rushed up my cheeks, and I reached for the single blanket to cover from his legs to mid chest.

Angela realized Caden's presence then: "What in all of Alagaësia? Why did not tell me of this? He is ripe with fever, Gwendolyn!"

A moan rumbled deep in his chest as Caden's eyes squinted and finally blinked open. His body twisted as if he expected to be on a rough surface and was bracing himself for the pain. Cheeks pale and slick with sweat, his mouth gaped open and sucked in a long, heavy breath. He coughed once, and then his eyes began to see.

"Where…?" Caden's voice grated on his throat and dyed in a whisper, but the question in his tone was clear.

Angela shooed me off to the side, disconnecting my grasp on him. She blocked me from rushing to his aid with a flat stare. But she could not keep me from calling out his name. "You are with the Varden now. Do not fret; we are taking care of you."

"Princess?"

I winced at the word. "Aye, it is me."

Caden's face broke out into a relaxed, satisfied smile. "Then I am indeed in good hands."

Angela humphed. "What happened to you, boy? Treating you will nearly be as harrowing as it was for Eragon." She referred to the collection of scrapes and bruises that colored Caden's flesh shades of purple, green, and red. There were little to none clear patches of skin on his body, with his face being the cleanest in terms of color. A long gash sliced from the corner of his lip up to his temple and disappeared into his hairline. The center of his right cheek not only had a nasty, scabbing, four-lined scratch on it but was peeling and scrunching and uneven from a burn. Overall, the man was a complete mess. But still he smiled to know that he was with me.

Strangely, it made me think of Edrolph….

_"Ach!" I whirled behind me to see Edrolph grasping his shin and glaring at the corner of a garden box. He muttered choice words and barked, "Don't just stand there! Call up a servant, a nurse, your mother – anyone! I hit this pretty hard, and I may be bleeding."_

"Gwendolyn, go fetch some water," Angela ordered.

Caden's eyes tried to find me around Angela's back, and when they did, they pleaded for my presence. We stared at each other for a moment, and I tried to convey through it that I would return and comfort him then.

I ran from the tent to Angela's, where I fetched two jugs. Then I maneuvered myself to the cook's station where I was able to convince them to give me some of their warmer water (I'd figured Angela was going to use this to clean Caden).

When I got back, Solembum had joined Pricilla, and she was awake. From their connected eyes, I assumed they were in a private conversation and so let them be.

Angela seemed pleased that I brought lukewarm water, a note that comforted me. She handed me a rag, instructing me to wash the sweat and lingering oil from him skin while she boiled the water to disinfect the strips she'd ripped from Caden's shirt.

"Depending on what scraped him, Caden could be fatally ill or remain to resemble one of Solembum's scratching posts," Angela concluded.

"Could not Arya then heal him? I believe they have such power, aye?"

As Angela neared the tent entrance, she said, "At the moment, all of the Varden's magicians are occupied. Perhaps you can find Arya in a day or so when her work load has settled down some. Right now, we do what can to help Caden heal naturally."

Caden grunted, annoyed we were talking as if he could not hear. His hand brushed my arm, and I rotated my body so I sat facing him. With quivering hands, I took the rag, dipped it into the remaining jug Angela didn't take with her outside, and placed it dripping on Caden's stomach.

Caden tensed.

"I need to clean you," I said in an even tone, ignoring the hiss that escaped his throat. Droplets sprinted down his sides as I rubbed the rag over his flesh.

"What. Happened?" Caden gasped between each word and clenched his teeth.

I paused. "You don't remember?"

He shook his head, and I moved the rag higher up his torso. Puckered ridges of scratched and split skin made me mindful of how harsh I washed with the rag. Every time I passed over a particularly ugly gash, Caden's muscles braced themselves as if waiting for an attack and a clipped, _tut_ sound broke through his locked teeth. "I'm sorry," was often muttered in such moments, but I pushed away any sort of guilt or embarrassed emotion until I finished washing the surface grime from his wounds.

We kept up little conversation, and I avoided meeting Caden's heated gaze. With his abrupt return, I suddenly knew not how to feel. His letter declared he loved me, but it seemed silly of me to mention it while he lay sick and hurt. Eventually, I had to wash his face, and when I did, Caden relaxed in my gentle grip and closed his eyes. I wondered of what he thought.

After sometime, as deep into the night as it was, Angela returned with wetted straps and a small jar she must have gone back to her tent to retrieve. With it, she took small handfuls of the yellowish goo and ran it over the nastier open sections of skin. It made Caden grunt and wince, but otherwise he lay uncomplaining as Angela wrapped up his wounds

"There," she announced when finished.

"He will be alright?"

Angela nodded and moved over to Pricilla's cushion where she once again slept. "Be careful with him, however. In the morning, I will make a drink to bolster his body's ability to fight off the fever. At the moment, though, if I do much more, I fear I shall pass out for days on end."

"The battle took much out of you." I frowned, feeling sad for the woman.

She left it at that.

Caden's hand grasped my hand where it sat on the mattress and tugged me nearer. Though still wound tight with confusion and shyness, I closed the distance between us as he wanted. Caden was having a difficult time holding his eyes open, and the upper portion of his face reddened with the heat of the fever. No matter how often I washed, the beads of warm sweat continued to trickle down his face, into his hair and his ears. But his hand refused to release me.

Caden moaned, and I found the wet rag to press against his forehead.

"Sleep, Caden," I said. "I shall be here when you wake."

At first, I thought he would argue, but Caden dipped his chin in agreement. The fingers wrapped like rope around my wrist loosened, and his deeply colored eyes closed. It was only a few minutes later that his hand fell away from mine completely.

I sagged into myself; the weight of today fell solidly onto my shoulders, and my mind seemed to realize with full clarity all that had happened between sunrise and sunset.

_I saw Murtagh again!_ At first, I sighed, remembering the dark shine of his hair slick with oil. But then I fought the urge to shudder. He had changed, thought Murtagh had always been a sort of moody boy (how could he not being dealt with the hand he got). But his _eyes_… the anger and grief contorted into his smeared face brought a shock of tears to my eyes. Had this been a consequence of my leaving? Or was it irrelevant. I did not like the thought of my actions harming Murtagh, dear friend that he was.

And then Caden…. Murtagh had saved him despite the attempt on his life. What happened to Caden? How did they cross paths? I thought for sure Edrolph was the one to burn the village – not Murtagh. It must have changed. But why?

I groaned and fell beside the mattress. A prick of relief came from stretching out my legs but it was easily over shadowed by the lumpy, harsh quality of the floor. Yet I would survive. Caden was alive, and though I was not completely sure of the spectrum of my feelings for him, warmth burned in my chest to see – _feel_ – he was alive.

**A**

The battle was… harsh…. Bruises mauled my flesh from the numerous bashings I'd received from spear shafts, arrows, and the landscape. At the rising of the Twins, I had once been so caught off guard, a soldier swung at my legs. I'd jumped in plenty time but landed off on my ankle. Then I'd fallen against a jagged rock that dented my armor.

But it was the end now. Part of my relaxed – we'd won. We'd placed our foot in the door of opportunity and wedged it open. So many years of waiting and planning, and now we were finally on our way to killing the tyrant King. But another part of me mourned. And not only for the lost lives of countless soldiers – on both sides, but for a chilling fact I could not convince myself was inaccurate:

Eragon was dead.

_Aye_, my rational side insisted, _it is a tragedy. But 'tis better he be dead than for the King to have two more dragon riders at his command._ From the display today, the Red Rider would be trouble enough. He'd defeated Eragon – killed him in a matter of hours.

_But he was my friend…._

Tried and true, Eragon Sonofnone – the human boy – had broken past a steely wall of nothing but thistles and thorns. It'd left him bleeding and scarred, but he came out the other side grinning like a fool. However uncomfortable his childish love for me was, Eragon indeed proved a welcome friend, someone to speak with and understand.

And he was dead.

_There is no time to mourn. Let your emotions be free when the duty is relieved. _

I parted from the bloody corpses and made my way to the main pavilion. On the way, I passed dwarves trekking up to the spot where their beloved King had been murdered. Pain and exhaustion etched into every pore of their bodies. They seemed unable to drain away the anguish.

My heart clenched, and I ignored it. Deep in my conscience, a sickly, dark voice sneered: _No one loves a broken Arya. No one cares for the poison bearer_.

I met up with Nasuada, who grimaced from her perch on her steed. She glanced down at me, eyes asking their silent inquiry: _Where is Eragon?_ After the death of the Dwarf King, I knew the death of the Blue Rider would only cause to further her sadness. But duty spoke first.

"I tried to contact Eragon with my mind," I explained, "but received no response. This can only mean that the Red Rider has killed him. Eragon is no more."

A tug of air snapped through her teeth as Nasuada grimaced and closed her eyes. We were similar spirits, she and I, as she too knew the need to hold off her grief. It seemed Eragon's friendly reach went far.

_Why should I care to mourn, anyhow? _I asked myself with inner bite. _It was my final resolve to cut our friendship short. It was a good decision, one that left us to fulfill our purposes in this war. _

Nasuada swallowed with much difficulty before saying, "This is… quite the development. Has his… body been retrieved? It would do well for us to give him the proper burial."

I shook my head. "Nay, but I will see to it that he is not desecrated."

She nodded and then tugged her horse towards the pavilion. "There is some business we must dicsuss, Aray, if you will."

We came into the pavilion speaking of the next actions of the Varden. Though the Battle of the Burning Plains could scarcely be considered a clear win, it was a foothold nonetheless, and neither of us wished to waste this chance.

"Feinster is where we go next," Nausuada said as a maid came forth and began assisting her out of her warped armor. She sat on the end of the table.

"But how to transport an army across the river?" I walked to where I stood near Nasuada.

"There are many methods of choice. We have the capablilities, and I am not worried about those particulars. I _am_, worried, however, the damage the Varden has sustained. Perhaps we should stall a month or so, recuperate?"

I shook my head. "Waiting would do us no good; we would loose the inch we just gained."

Nasuada seemed a bit in her own world of contemplation as she moved on to another topic of issue. "With Eragon no longer… with us, the Du Vrangr Gata is again without proper authority. I dislike the thought of giving Trianna full reigns of the magicians. Arya, perhaps you would care to take the position?"

Grimacing, I tried to steer the conversation back towards the issue of transport. "Lady Nasuada, I do believe we shall encounter trouble with the Jiet currents should we try and cross the army and our supplies across it to Feinster."

"It's either we do it now or wait until winter patches of the water to freeze. And you yourself said –"

Just then, a masculine tone made itself known at the entrance of the pavilion. "Did you wound him? Is that why he fled?"

"Wait. You'll hear."

To the relief and shock of my mind, Eragon ducked into the pavilion, as lively and fleshy as when he had arrived from Ellesméra. The surprise paralyzing my system was as such that I refused to move from where I stood. I realized I felt _whole_ – not in that Eragon completed me, but that it set the world right that Eragon lived. All I could murmur through my pale lips was, "The candle still burns."

Hope still flickered in the fog of thick blackness.

**Angela will begin to not be so depressed in later chapters now; she might even care to talk about it (she's been weird lately); I have some time-scale research to do eventually; I am crossing my fingers that Brisinger does not last for months and months; we'll get more Arya chapters and at least two more Murtagh chapters (for the Brisinger 'section') as Gwen's part is very calm for the next some weeks (up until the Brisinger climax area); I'm really excited for the plot twists I have, as we will start delving more into my own plot tweaks that do not match the original series (I won't go really awry, but it has to happen if we want certain couples to get together... cough AxE cough... ) **

**Hopefully you're excited, too! What do you want to happen? Is your image super angst-y or super romantic? Do you wish I had more real action, or do you like the character explorations? (Which, if you wish for more action, that's not highly likely; character relations and interactions are more my thing)**

**Please review!**


	29. Chapter 29

**Yeah, this isn't a new chapter... but I had some things I needed to explain to any of those who still have this story on Alert and who still follow this:**

**Writing VoR has been good for me in that I've been pushed to write constantly. VoR is like that longest thing I've ever written. And I had a lot of fun doing it. **

**I love my OC's, though I'll bet that hardly surprises any of you. Most of this story had to do with my OCs. But you guys like them, too, yes? **

**I'm probably not going to finish this - not as a FanFic, anyway. **

**The big wall that's been preventing me from going forward has less to do with writer's block and more to do with me not wanting to write another person's characters (i.e. Eragon, Arya, Murtagh). It's just not as fun with me. **

**So recently, ideas have come to me in ways that I can mold my plot into an original one. It's actually not too weird a transition since I already have my fantasy world of choice (one I've had created for years now) and Gwen's and Caden's story works well into a prequel of my OW series. I think I just might write it like that. **

**Now, some of you may be reading this and thinking, "What does this have to do with us? Even if you do write it, it's not like we can read it. There's really no point in telling us this." **

**Well... I have an account on this website called . It's where I post my original writings. I already have a link to my portfolio there on my account page here, but I'll put one down here for those who are interested in taking a peek. ;-)**

**My question for all you dear and wonderful readers is, should I get around to rewriting VoR into my own cannon, would you be interested in reading it? Would you like for me to inform you when I do start posting chapters of it online? **

**Sorry to disappoint many of you. It ticks off a lot of people to have a story just stop, especially when I got so far in. But I need to start focusing on Original Writing and my many projects in that field. I want to be published one day. **

**Thanks for your support and lovely reviews. I appreciate them all, as they showed me people (that I don't know) can like my writing. It was an important confidence boost for me.**

******{www.}Writing {dot} Com/authors/blueasice**


	30. Chapter 30

**Exciting Announcement for ExA **

**So... I was looking through my past reviews for this piece, and I noticed a lot of you were really hoping for some ExA... I kinda feel bad I left ya'll hanging there. **

**And then I decided I would write one last chapter for this piece - one that jumps essentially to bring closure and change to the ExA ending of Inheritance. It's not exactly the way I planned for ExA to go at this stage, but it'll be romantic type ending for our favorite couple. You'll even get to see why I think Arya should have never taken the crown and how Eragon fully slips into her trust. (Because, honestly, Arya is pretty narrow minded thinking all humans do is change their minds about every decision they make. Gwen kinda gets mad at her about that [don't look so surprised] at some point in the book). **

**ANYWAY, this chapter will be all about Arya and Eragon. It'll all probably be in Arya's POV as well. No Gwen and Caden in this spotlight. **

**As for my rewrite of this story, I'll be writing that (if I can stay on schedule for once) this November! I'll probably start posting the chapters in my portfolio (see my author's page for link) a few days into Nov. **

**So what do you think? Yay or Nay to an EragonxArya chapter? It should be a rather decent chunk of writing. **


	31. Chapter 31

**Nope, not the whole chapter. Just a small slice, really. So far, the chapter is already 7k. Why? Because I really want to write some of these things that I had planned for this story. The AxE parts, anyway. The Gwen and Caden issues you can see resolved when I do my rewrite. **

**So, I'll update this chapter (31) with the rest of the chapter (edited and sifted through) when I'm done with it. **

**Hope you like it (mind you, I haven't actually finished the chapter, so none of this is edited, lol)**

_"Edrolph, what madness is this? How dare you let this curse come upon you!" _

_ Eragon sent me a perplexed look. I frowned. Gwendolyn was taken _here_? _

_ In the core of the room stood a tall man garbed in a bloodied jerkin. He held his right arm up with ease despite holding the wrists of a squirming, irritated princess._

_ "You are quite a stupid, girl, aren't you?" The man chuckled and swung her whole body like a pendulum. She squeaked in fear. "Edrolph no longer lives. We simply inhabit his body now." _

_ A Shade! _

_ Still squatting, I motioned to Eragon to move behind the dark man. He nodded at me, gritting his teeth as he turned back to the scene. _

_ Someone growled. I thought it was Eragon at first, but one peek back at him proved him to be just as stunned at the noise. _

_ A form leaped at the captor, attempting to knock him to the ground. The Shade thrust Gwendolyn at the form, and the two bodies flung back and fell into a tangled mass. "We perceive your tender feelings for this girl," he said, walking towards them._

_ Gwendolyn rolled off her companion, and I saw it to be Caden. His hair was redder than before, however. Blood dyed it. He struggled to lean up on his elbows as the shade loomed above him. With swift pace, Eraong glided closer to his target, readying himself for a strike to the heart. _

_"Consider it a gift, then, that we kill you. It will satisfy us watching life drain away from your weak body, and we shall then be more likely to spare the life of your lover as we transport her back to whence she came." The Shade shoved Gwendolyn aside when she tried to block Caden and grabbed the young man's neck with a powerful grip. _

_Caden yelped. The Shade raised him from the ground and squeezed Caden's throat slowly. _

_Eragon attacked then, brandishing his flaming blue sword with an enraged roar. But then the unthinkable happened: Eragon collapsed midair and crumbled into the ground – at the foot of the shade. _

No!_ I grabbed my sword and darted towards the shade. He glanced down at Eragon first with confusion. He saw me before I could attack and threw Caden's white body at me. _

_I dodged Caden, wincing at the harsh sound his body made when it hit the floor somewhere behind me. The Shade muttered a few strange, complicated words and flashed his palm at me. A red, sparking ball shot from his hand and impaled my midsection. I flew back ten feet, nearly smashing into the opposite wall. _

_"What sort of assault is this?" The Shade questioned, placing full attention on the unconscious Eragon. "Did we kill him simply with our presence? A weak man, indeed!" Eragon's arm trembled, and glee struck the Shade's pale, bony face. "Not dead yet, then? Another victim to quench my thirst?" _

_Fear took immediate hold of my heart. It could not bear witnessing the death of Eragon. Without anymore thought, I shouted out the ancient language and emerald green ejected from my fingers. The slim projectiles – sharp as daggers – bounced off the Shade and broke apart like arrows. Their target bristled as if cold, and he looked on me with rude amusement. _

_"You first, then, wish death?" _

_._

_._

_._

_._

_"What… was that exactly?" Eragon glanced back at the princess and Caden, who was regaining his senses and opening his eyes. _

_"While you were gone, Gwendolyn was kidnapped by him who claimed to be Edrolph. Caden immediately went after," I explained. "The rest is perhaps better told by them." _

_Eragon nodded but didn't move towards them. Rather, he gazed at me, eyes gentle and quite. _

_Unable to handle the emotions such a gaze gave to me, I shifted the subject to our most recent feat. "We killed him…." I motioned towards where Lythrum had been. "We killed him, and yet we did not die." Amazing…. "So few have ever killed a Shade and lived."_

_"That is because they fought alone, not together, like us." Eragon managed a grin. _

_"No, not like us." _

_"I had you to help me in Farthen Dur, and you had me to help you here."_

_"Yes."_

_"Now I shall call _you_ Shadeslayer."_

_ We leaned towards one another, reveling in our greatest accomplishment thus far. _

_ "We are both –" _

_The crash and shuddering of the room cut me off. Saphira's bulk impaled the tower wall as she hurtled within. Eragon jumped to his feet, worry and sadness wiping off any sense of joy he felt. Saphira clawed the ground, screeching and roaring with great anguish. Her tail mauled the walls of the room, breaking furniture and smashing paintings. _

_I stumbled to a stand, gripping Eragon's forearm to steady myself. "Saphira, what is wrong?" But she refused to answer me. _

_Eragon gnashed his teeth, anger much more red and heated than when we had argued coloring his face. "Oromis and Glaedr are dead. Galbatorix killed them."_

_I staggered away from Eragon, nearly falling again._ Oromis and Glaedr dead? No…._ Harsh, biting emotion rimmed my eyes, forming drops as they spilled down my face. My mind grasped at nothing, and I leaned toward my only friend. _

_"Eragon." _

_His arms encased me as mine wrapped around his chest. I wished for the warmth of his flesh, buried under his stained, cold armor. "Eragon, no…." _

_His words were tight, fighting tears. "It is true."_

_Why…? Why must another being I care for be swallowed up in the shadows of the void. How many more would I loose?! I held Eragon as if I could protect him, keep him from leaving me, too. Eragon responded in kind, synching his arms around my back and hiding me in his embrace. _

_For too long, perhaps, we stood this way: locked in our mutual grief. I forgot I ever insulted him. I forgot to not care for him._

**Those four dots indicated a skip in part of the story. Not that I didn't write it. I just didn't include it into the preview. I was excited to write this because it shows off what I had intended for the Brisinger climax (b/c this fic is technically an AU). Hope you are as excited as I am. Also, this is written as a flash back. There is a series of them before the main 'meat' of the chapter, where there is the true resolution. I do this because my plot line is different in ways than CP's. The biggest example with Arya is, in my care, she's just a slight more emotionally inclined than in the cannon series. Most of that is because it's my writing style. I am trying my best, though, not to throw a curve ball Arya at you. These flashbacks help me reason out (both for myself and for you) why my IC ending is different than the cannon. Hope you'll all like it in the end :-) **


	32. Chapter 32

**Not the WHOLE chapter, but about 6.6K worth. That leaves about 7-ish K to be revealed later tonight (tomorrow at the latest). Why break it apart like that? Because it is relieving me of anxiety to post ****_something_****. The other section I still have some kinks to work out with (more so on later half of it, though, as I wrote it last night). **

**I ****_really_**** hope you enjoy this :-) Took me hours to write this.**

**Also, just so you know, each brake line means the flash back has ended and that another will begin. The flash backs begin in about the middle of Brisinger, just before Eragon and the dwarf section. **

_Eragon tried to hide his hurt and anger, but the emotions wrote themselves all over his tense body and clenched fists. I as well felt a bought of irritation that he had pulled me away from my duty for the sake of a conversation. He should be focused on his training and studies. _

_ Confusion leaked through his voice when he spoke, energizing the tension in the small tent space. "What am I to you, Arya? As a person. Forgetting my feelings for you. What am I?"_

_ His question rang odd in my ears. My first thought was Eragon was trying to woo me again, squeeze some sort of romantic response from my lips. But from the way his jaw tightened at the length of my silence, I had a feeling this had nothing to do with unreciprocated love._

_ Eragon didn't wait any longer for me to think. "What am I to you?" he barked. And then he seemed to realize how loud his voice had risen and took a deep breath to calm himself. The hurt in his eyes swelled, and he began to tremble. All he could say was, "What am I to you?"_

_ "I'm not quite sure I understand your inquiry."_

_ Eragon wanted to hit something – that much was plain – but he held the urge in and, instead, pressed his palms against his eyes as if he were fighting to hold back tears. _

_ I sighed, believing I perceived his thoughts. Gentling my tone, I said, "You cannot worry over what the world says of you, Eragon. It will control you."_

_Eragon shook his head, lowering his hands. He won the wrestle with his emotions and stood before me with nothing but a frown. "That's not my problem. Arya, I know very well I am nothing more than a tool to all of these soldiers. I am the way for their liberation. I accept that. But I am a person, too. And it seems the number of those people who know that and care of it are slowly shrinking in size. Are you one of those people, Arya? Or do I mean nothing more than the sword at your side?"_

_"It should not matter what I think, Eragon."_

_He struggled with anger. "It matters to me. At the very most, I thought we were friends."_

_"This is war. We have a duty to perform, not a relationship to nurse." Where he was going with this, I was not quite sure yet. Yes, I considered Eragon a friend, a dear friend perhaps. But war required we remain focused on our objectives. _

_Eragon sighed, resigned. A good sign, I thought, until the water touched his eyes. He blinked, and the tears were gone. But the sadness remained. Gazing into my eyes, he said, "So Gwendolyn's memory is sound? I am nothing more than another sacrifice you feel you must make in pursuing the freedom of the Empire?"_

_I frowned. The memory he referred to did not make itself known. "We all must make sacrifices, Eragon."_

_He shook his head, gritting his teeth to hold back some noise of frustration. "When Caden put faith in me to help that village, you did not place that same hope. You said I was only a boy – that I could do nothing."_

_"Eragon –"_

_"And then you didn't hesitate to say war called for all sacrifices, even if it was the innocence of a poor farm boy. So I ask again, Arya. What do I mean to you?"_

_I swallowed, assessing the situation. Eragon waited for a response. Now I did remember the moment he recalled. Gwendolyn and Caden had barged into the pavilion. We'd learned we now housed the daughter of the tyrant king. _

_ I explained, "I was very stressed that day. I am all days."_

_"But you don't care for me. I am nothing more than a tool, a means to a greater end."_

_"It is an honorable end."_

_Eragon gasped between his teeth. His eyes searched my face, but did not find what they were looking for. Rather than cry, though, Eragon hardened. He inclined his head, and said in a stiff tone, "Good day, Arya. I apologize for wasting so much of your time. I have a duty I must attend to." And with that, Eragon whirled around on his toes and stalked out of the tent. _

_I thought I would feel peace. Eragon surely would never woo me again or sway from his training. My words had their intended effect. _

_But a cave formed there in the center of my chest, within which bubbled discomfort and… regret. _

* * *

_I had had little time to deal with emotions. With Eragon gone, I was not forced to think of his accusation. But he confused me, acting as if nothing had been broken between the two of us._

_ "Saphira and I are going to enter the keep from above and try to capture Lady Lorana. Do you want to come?"_

_ Of course, I had no issue in accepting, though I found it strange he offered. But then, in sitting behind him and wrapping an arm around his waist, I felt how his torso tensed, and I knew his anger still resided deep within. He simply pushed it down and accepted the circumstances as they were for the price of battle._

_ We took off in flight through the city. Many soldiers fled at the sight of Saphira soaring overhead. The wind she generated threw them to the ground and rattled their helms. _

_ Surprise gripped my heart and mind when Saphira dropped suddenly in the sky and then regained her equilibrium. Eragon, too, seemed to float off as if in a dream and return just as quickly. "What is wrong," I said in his ear. _

Oromis and Glaedr are about to fight_, answered Saphira._

_ That made no sense. "How do you know?" Unless…._

_ "I'll explain later. I just hope they don't get hurt." _

_ "As do I."_

_ I redirected my thoughts to our current occupation. For a moment, I wondered where Caden had run off to. Had he managed to find Gwendolyn? Stubborn, naive girl that she was, I wished I could have helped in rescuing her. But it was illogical to go after her madcap captor when I had no inkling of where he might have taken her, and the Varden was in the midst of preparation for this battle. _

_ Should I explain my instinct that Gwendolyn may have been kidnapped by a shade? Later – it would only distract him from his purposes. For all we knew, she'd been taken back to her father. _

_ Saphira left us to meet us in the chamber below as we clung to the steep tower roof. We lowered ourselves far enough to drop eight feet onto a narrow stone ledge. I followed a careful Eragon along the shelf until we slipped through a window and into a storage room of archery. Stepping as silently as we could manage, we trailed the staircase down and into a large, ornate room. _

_ Under the warm glow of glass lanterns, four persons were laying flat on the floor. I remembered them as magicians attacking from within the city. A stout woman sat in a padded chair across the room, her arms stiff against her side as if she were unable to move them. She stared at the center of the room with wide, terrified eyes. _

_ "Edrolph, what madness is this? How dare you let this curse come upon you!" _

_ Eragon sent me a perplexed look. I frowned. Gwendolyn was taken _here_? _

_ In the core of the room stood a tall man garbed in a bloodied jerkin. He held his right arm up with ease despite holding the wrists of a squirming, irritated princess._

_ "You are quite a stupid, girl, aren't you?" The man chuckled and swung her whole body like a pendulum. She squeaked in fear. "Edrolph no longer lives. We simply inhabit his body now." _

_ A Shade! _

_ Still squatting, I motioned to Eragon to move behind the dark man. He nodded at me, gritting his teeth as he turned back to the scene. _

_ Someone growled. I thought it was Eragon at first, but one peek back at him proved him to be just as stunned at the noise. _

_ A form leaped at the captor, attempting to knock him to the ground. The Shade thrust Gwendolyn at the form, and the two bodies flung back and fell into a tangled mass. "We perceive your tender feelings for this girl," he said, walking towards them._

_ Gwendolyn rolled off her companion, and I saw it to be Caden. His hair was redder than before, however. Blood dyed it. He struggled to lean up on his elbows as the shade loomed above him. With swift pace, Eraong glided closer to his target, readying himself for a strike to the heart. _

_"Consider it a gift, then, that we kill you. It will satisfy us watching life drain away from your weak body, and we shall then be more likely to spare the life of your lover as we transport her back to whence she came." The Shade shoved Gwendolyn aside when she tried to block Caden and grabbed the young man's neck with a powerful grip. _

_Caden yelped. The Shade raised him from the ground and squeezed Caden's throat slowly. _

_Eragon attacked then, brandishing his flaming blue sword with an enraged roar. But then the unthinkable happened: Eragon collapsed midair and crumbled into the ground – at the foot of the shade. _

No!_ I grabbed my sword and darted towards the shade. He glanced down at Eragon first with confusion. He saw me before I could attack and threw Caden's white body at me. _

_I dodged Caden, wincing at the harsh sound his body made when it hit the floor somewhere behind me. The Shade muttered a few strange, complicated words and flashed his palm at me. A red, sparking ball shot from his hand and impaled my midsection. I flew back ten feet, nearly smashing into the opposite wall. _

_"What sort of assault is this?" The Shade questioned, placing full attention on the unconscious Eragon. "Did we kill him simply with our presence? A weak man, indeed!" Eragon's arm trembled, and glee struck the Shade's pale, bony face. "Not dead yet, then? Another victim to quench my thirst?" _

_Fear took immediate hold of my heart. It could not bear witnessing the death of Eragon. Without anymore thought, I shouted out the ancient language and emerald green ejected from my fingers. The slim projectiles – sharp as daggers – bounced off the Shade and broke apart like arrows. Their target bristled as if cold, and he looked on me with rude amusement. _

_"You first, then, wish death?" _

_The Shade kicked aside Eragon and held out a wiry hand towards me. I sneered, reaching for my sword. With a smirk, the Shade commanded another phrase of words. My body jerked forward and slid along the ground until I was on my knees and only centimeters away from the shade. _

_"Know the name of your life-stealer. We are Lythrum." The Shade grinned an ugly smile of pointed, craggy teeth. _

_My sword jumped at him, but Lythrum's knee was faster. It connected with my side, and I crumpled over. The gleaming weapon clattered on the floor. _

_Lythrum wrapped his fingers about my throat and lifted me the same way he had with Caden. He pressed on my wind pipe, blocking off air flow, and I sucked in a gasp. _

_Over the Shade's shoulder, I could see Eragon regain consciousness. He quaked as he awoke and came partly to a stand. Tears streaked his face. Stress disoriented him, and he gripped his head tightly. _

_I struggled in Lythrum's grip, pounding hard fists on his stiff arm. Black spots puckered my vision. With a forceful hit, I broke the joint in his elbow, and his hold loosened for just a moment – a moment in which I gulped down air. But then the bone healed. The Shade raised me higher. _

_"We grant your wish. You will not have to face the death of your friend."_

_Eragon stumbled to his feet, eyes locked on the back of the Shade's head. Lythrum frowned as if in deep concentration. _

I cannot die. _I wrestled for release. All my work could not come to this – to my death. Mother must remain in the pact with the Varden. Galbatorix must be killed. Eragon needed me!_

_The Shade turned his head towards a frozen Eragon with sudden glee. "Your ring is full of light! Beautiful light! It will feed us for a long time!" _

_My hand connected with Lythrum's wrist, and the bones there broke in succession. I twisted out of his grip before he could grab me again and landed, gasping for air, at his feet. _

_ Lythrum growled. He kicked at me, but I rolled away and lunged for my sword. Still sore for breath, the world spun and fogged like gray steam. Fingers taut on the sword's hilt, I shook my head to clear it and blinked my eyes. The Shade raged and pounced on me. We fell in a heap, the blow sucking more air from my lungs. Adrenaline coursed through me like fire, and it was all I could do to keep up the energy to fight off the Shade. He struggled to pin me under him and take my weapon. With a course shout, I struck the pommel of my sword against the side of his head. _

_I pushed myself upright and onto my feet. Lythrum rose to his feet but stumbled back onto his knee as if hit again. _

_"Get him!" Eragon urged, voice strained._

_I flung forward. Lythrum turned towards me, mouth agate. The point of my sword buried itself into the Shade's heart, and shock etched his white face. He recoiled, pulling the blade out of his chest and swiping at me with wide, draining eyes. Then his flesh faded, became transparent; bodies of quivering spirits split across his muscles and shot forth through the air like shattered glass. They fled through the walls high and above me. Lythrum was dead. _

_I collapsed where I stood, cupping my throat and casting my glance around me. The woman in the chair regained the ability to move, and she felt the contours of her face with awe. Caden lay unmoving, but a soft groan emitted from his lips, proving he lived. At some point during the battle, Gwendolyn had shuffled across the room to Caden and now pulled him onto her lap as mixed tears wetted her pale cheeks. _

_Eragon fell to his knees beside me, touching his hand over mine and uttering, "Waise heill." The pain receded, and the wound in my throat healed over. Eragon trembled at the effort, however, and sagged onto his thighs. "Better?"_

_"Better," I whispered, offering a small smile to reassure him. _

_"What… was that exactly?" Eragon glanced back at the princess and Caden, who was regaining his senses and opening his eyes. _

_"While you were gone, Gwendolyn was kidnapped by him who claimed to be Edrolph. Caden immediately went after," I explained. "The rest is perhaps better told by them." _

_Eragon nodded but didn't move towards them. Rather, he gazed at me, eyes gentle and quite. _

_Unable to handle the emotions such a gaze gave to me, I shifted the subject to our most recent feat. "We killed him…." I motioned towards where Lythrum had been. "We killed him, and yet we did not die." Amazing…. "So few have ever killed a Shade and lived."_

_"That is because they fought alone, not together, like us." Eragon managed a grin. _

_"No, not like us." _

_"I had you to help me in Farthen Dur, and you had me to help you here."_

_"Yes."_

_"Now I shall call _you_ Shadeslayer."_

_ We leaned towards one another, reveling in our greatest accomplishment thus far. _

_ "We are both –" _

_The crash and shuddering of the room cut me off. Saphira's bulk impaled the tower wall as she hurtled within. Eragon jumped to his feet, worry and sadness wiping off any sense of joy he felt. Saphira clawed the ground, screeching and roaring with great anguish. Her tail mauled the walls of the room, breaking furniture and smashing paintings. _

_I stumbled to a stand, gripping Eragon's forearm to steady myself. "Saphira, what is wrong?" But she refused to answer me. I turned and asked Eragon._

_Eragon gnashed his teeth, anger much more red and heated than when we had argued colored his face. "Oromis and Glaedr are dead. Galbatorix killed them."_

_I staggered away from Eragon, nearly falling again._ Oromis and Glaedr dead? No…._ Harsh, biting emotion rimmed my eyes, forming drops as they spilled down my face. My mind grasped at nothing, and I leaned toward my only friend. _

_"Eragon." _

_His arms encased me as mine wrapped his chest. I wished for the warmth of his flesh, buried under his stained, cold armor. "Eragon, no…." _

_His words were tight, fighting tears. "It is true."_

_Why…? Why must another being I cared for be swallowed up in the shadows of the void. How many more would I loose?! I held Eragon as if I could protect him, keep him from leaving me, too. Eragon responded in kind, synching his arms around my back and hiding me in his embrace. _

_For too long, perhaps, we stood this way: locked in our mutual grief. I forgot I ever insulted him. I forgot to not care for him. _

* * *

_"Eragon, I must apologize."_

_ The bewilderment on his tired face eased, and he motioned me to sit down at his table chair. _

_ War did not rest for its participants. But a week had now passed since our slaying of the Shade and already, we mobilized towards Belatona. Still… I wanted to clear this tension I felt in my heart before another battle ensued or Eragon was sent once again away from the Varden. _

_ With me sitting only a few feet from him and facing him, and Eragon watching me from his spot on the bed, I began, "I regret the words I said to you. At the time, I meant them. But it was because I thought you were skirting your duties, putting too much focus elsewhere, that I acted rashly. Please accept my apology, Shadeslayer."_

_ Eragon's lips parted, and his jaw twitched as if to do the same, but he put his surprise in check and inclined his head. "I am immensely grateful at your words, Arya dröttningu. Though I tried not to feel it, I was hurt." _

_"Eragon…" My frown deepened. "I wish for you not to put so much heart on me and what I do. It distracts you."_

_He looked away, at the tent wall. "If I should say why that is an impossible feat for me, I fear you may become angry once again." _

_So he still loved me. Or, thought he did, at least. "I am less likely to become angry over that now than I was when you were first changed, Eragon."_

_Eragon turned back to me, intrigued but wary. Then he sighed and leaned forward on his elbows. "Arya, please understand that I became upset because I felt as if I was losing my mind. For better or for worse, I cannot loose you. And for you to say… that I was nothing more than a means to justify the ends…. Arya, I _need_ someone – someone who can understand this madness coursing through my veins. I wish for your friendship."_

_I could have said so many things. He had Saphira, who leveled with him in such a way no one ever could. His cousin still lived and still cared for him. Nasuada, as well, was his friend. And the Elvin guards. But I said none of these things, for I too wanted a friendship, and my first choice was Eragon. _

_"Aye, Eragon. I would be honored to be the friend once again of a Dragon Rider."_

_Eragon smiled and stood when I did. He reached out, and I allowed him to pull me into a soft, light embrace. "Hugs are simple with friends," he said to placate me and then released me. _

_I nodded. "But are fullest in their meanings when sparse and well timed."_

_Eragon caught the hint and chuckled. _

* * *

_Wydren's death reminded all us elves that, even immortal, we were still privy to the void. It was not in such a way that we forgot we could be hurt by sword, arrow, or magic. But it had been so long since an elf died in battle, if one did not count Oromis, that we remembered Galbatorix still had power over us. We were not so invincible. _

_ The realization somehow was humbling. I felt no shame in drinking his faelnirv, nor is bringing it with me to Eragon and his tent. No shame at all. _

_ We sat inside his tent across from each other, a warm flame brightening the dark. As when I had come to ask for his forgiveness (a time that seemed so very long ago now), Eragon wore a look of perplexity. _

_We had a peculiar relationship that I'd never known with Faolin. It seemed… deeper to a point. With Faolin, I expected it of myself to feel for him. It was logical and new and, in some ways I believe, added to my rebellion of my mother. Part of me loved him to spite my mother. A section of my brain applauded him as the image of my perfect mate – the ideal. A lot of what Eragon was not. _

_But, with Eragon, there is no pressure to force myself to believe there is more than just us. No one knows how deep our relationship is. We can just… be. _

_I handed the wooden flask to Eragon for him to partake of. He took the drink, unstopped it, and sniffed. His expression of immediate dislike and shock brought bubbles of laughter from my lips. "Is it faelnirv?"_

_"It is, but Wyrden added something else to it."_

_"Oh?"_

_"The leaves of a plant that grows in the eastern part of Du Weldenvarden, along the shores of Röna Lake."_

_Eragon managed to control his initial reaction and settled for a frown. "Do I know the name of this plant?"_

_I shrugged. "Probably, but it's of no importance. Go on: drink. You'll like it, I promise." Its sharp, fuzzy taste lingered still on my tongue._

_Eragon hesitated, watching my mirth escalate with each of his delayed reactions. Did he not realize how amusing he appeared mulling over a tiny flask of liquor as if it would reach out to bite him? Finally, however, he brought the faelnirv to his lips and took a drink. He swallowed hard, fighting off a grimace, and then handed the flask back to me. _

_We continued to pass the liquor around, commenting on the stray thoughts that fancied our minds and enjoying the burn of a liquid that made us forget the burdens of the world. When the faelnirv was gone, Eragon gave the flask back to me. And our hands reached, his grasped mine and fingered where my injury had been. _

_"Blödhgarm healed you?" _

_I nodded, and his fingers fell away. The tingle it left in my arm brought a faint smile to my lips. Trust. "Mostly. I have full use of my hand again." I flourished my hand near his face, fisting it and opening it several times. "But there is still a patch of skin by the base of my thumb where I have no feeling." I pointed. _

_Eragon seemed to marvel at my every word, lightly brushing his fingers over where he thought I indicated. "Here?" he asked._

_"Here." I clarified, and his fingertips moved accordingly. _

_"And Blödhgram wasn't able to do anything about it?"_

_I shook my head. "He tried a half-dozen spells, but the nerves refuse to rejoin." But I waved it away. Tonight was not to linger on the negative thoughts. Tonight was to listen in on the whisperings of Eragon's hand as it continued to trace the path of my injury. "It's of no consequence. I can still wield a sword and I can still draw a bow. That is all that matters."_

_Eragon hesitated a moment, his index finger pausing over the patch of unfeeling flesh. "You know… how grateful I am for what you did – what you tried to do. I'm only sorry if left you with a permanent mark. If I could have prevented it somehow…"_

_ A strange ushering led my fingers to wrap around Eragon's, a gesture of comfort. "Do not feel bad because of it. It's impossible to go through life unscathed. Nor should you want to. By the hurts we accumulate, we measure both our follies and our accomplishments."_

_"Angela said something similar about enemies – that if you didn't make them, you were a coward or worse."_

_I nodded. "There is some truth to that."_

_Time became a blur as the night wore on. Our intoxication only intensified with its passing. But what stood out the most – through all the fog and all the meaningless words – were the feelings of Eragon's hand in mine. It was a loose hold, but one that prolonged the giddy rise in my chest. That connection served to remind me I had an unconditional friend, someone I knew by now more than ever I trusted. We were different than Gwendolyn and Caden, who kissed and spoke sweetly of each other to reinforce their mutual feelings. I did not need to be Eragon's lover to know that I trusted him deeply and with the strength of dragons. _

_As some point in the night, I remembered noticing the queer expression on Eragon's face – brows slanted and eyes wary. "What is it?"_

_His mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish. His tongue licked his lips as if reaching for moisture. "The world is tilting at incredible speeds. Ants march along my back and down my limbs. I feel as if I have a slug for a tongue. And yet I hear noises as if I were meditating… chirping… the torches outside… footsteps, and the gentle waves of a body of water." _

_Laughter easily came and took over me. "That is as it should be. The sensations will wear off by dawn. Until then, relax and allow yourself to enjoy them."_

_He appeared a moment at war with himself, but then he shrugged, and his grin grew tenfold on his lips. In a rather bold move (one that, had I been clear of mind, he would never had achieved), Eragon tugged on our connected hands and pulled me to sit beside him. _

_What transpired after was muddied and disjointed in my mind. The faelnirv muddled the clarity of my thoughts, but I was sure we spoke of nonsense and trivial things. I knew my heart, though, rejoiced at this light period. I did not think of Nasuada. I did not think of Galbatorix. I did not even think of my mother's potential reaction to my behavior. I only thought of being free of my melancholy and to assist Eragon in controlling his. _

_At the height of this experience, the sharp, reedy tone of a woodwind instrument picked up a lively tune. It played to the rhythm of my being. I fell back onto Eragon's mattress, reveling in the simple images that sprung into my mind. A glorious field of orange and black butterflies emerging from rest…. The golden petals of a special Lilly planted into the earth…. The soft feel of lamb's ear as I brushed it across my cheeks and fingertips…. _

_Eragon lay back, too. There remained a thin band of space between the two of us as we closed our eyes and thought of the beauties of the world. At some point, Eragon's thumb began to rub gentle circles into the back of my hand. _

_The melody of the reed began to quicken its pace, twist itself around the fabric of time. The fingers of its player danced along its neck as seamlessly as water striders glided over the surface of lakes. My feet picked up its rhythm, and I had the sudden urge to dance! _

_I untangled my hand from Eragon's and leapt to a wobbly stand. Eragon sat up and observed, amusement and curiosity plain on his face. I stomped to the beat, learned its feel before jumping into a twirl the likes of wind spinning around cattails. _

_My hands clapped, my right warmer than my left due to having been pressed against Eragon's. At first, my dance steps were slow in contrast to the music, playing out longer notes. And then, as my legs stretched, my dancing raced to catch up to its commander. _

_Oh, the joys! _

_Whirling on my tip-toes, I favored Eragon with a truly happy smile. Never loosing pace in my step, I leaned down and grasped Eragon's arm. He gasped when I drew him to his feet and forced him to comply with my fast movements. He was clumsy with drink and therefore far from graceful as he tried to follow the melody's call. I coaxed his arms to take me and spin me like a whirlwind. And we continued forward, we did not disconnect for more than a mere moment. _

_By the time the music was calming from its frenzied state, Eragon and I laughed without inhibition. The melody drifted into the night, far from our ears. And then Eragon placed his leg in front of where mine was landing. I kicked his calf, and he grunted; he grabbed me as he fell down, and we both tumbled onto his bed._

_I rested on top of his torso, catching my fleeting breath. His chest rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern. Once I felt I could stand again, I lifted my head and shifted to move off Eragon. He looked at me, and our eyes connected. In the midst of the intoxicating, swirling world, Eragon's eyes flashed especially bright tonight. Warm. Real. My hair broke free from behind my ears and tickled his nose and cheeks. Eragon chuckled at this, propping himself up on his elbows to close the gap between us. _

Be happy, Arya. Do not think of consequences,_ urged the faelnirv. _

_But just as Eragon began to raise his lips higher up, a strange tremor wracked his body. His elbows failed, and we crashed back onto the mattress. I rolled off him. Eragon clutched his marked palm and scratched at it as if it were plagued with a great itch. _

_Overhead, the roar of a dragon reverberated through the camp. _

* * *

_"Arya." My name was riddled with stress and fear on the lips of Eragon. His eyes bore into mine, searching for some answer to grab onto – some bit of comfort. Then he growled, shook his head, and sat heavily on his mattress. _

_ Though the Varden oozed chaos, I choose to be here for him – if just a moment. A burden the size of Alagaësia had landed square on his back and no power in all the land could remove it from him. Eragon had become the leader of the Varden. _

_ "I feel so weak." _

_ At his soft plea, I went to sit beside him. "You are not alone, Eragon," I said, offering a faint smile. _

_ His answering sigh seemed to relive a small portion of the tension in his shoulder blades. He attempted a terse chuckle. "I'm not even quite sure what happened tonight. Have you spoken to Caden? Has anyone?"_

_ I frowned. Caden's shout to the heavens rang through my ears, ran down my spine. Agony. Regret. Vengeful. I shook my head. "But Angela might have gone to see him. She apprenticed Gwendolyn." _

_ "I can't believe she betrayed us. Left all we'd given her for… her father." Eragon grimaced and swallowed. _

_ I could imagine it. Caden broke her heart. It probably ripped the seams along the poor girl's sanity. She _was_ the daughter of a madman, after all. _

_ "Regardless," Eragon continued, "I'm going to have to shoulder this and bear through it." He looked over at me, eyes relaxing. "We both have duties we need to get working on. I appreciate your presence here tonight, Arya. I am grateful I – the Varden did not loose you…." On his lap, his left hand rose a few inches, twitched toward me, and then fell back onto his thigh. Eragon sighed. _

_ I nodded, and we stood together. Before I left his tent, however, I leaned over and put my arms around his torso in a light, quick embrace. My action surprised Eragon. He tensed but then softened and held me in return. _

_ Words were on his lips when we parted, yet his throat would not release them. He struggled for a moment before simply inclining his chin and saying, "I trust your endeavors will be successful."_

_ "Aye, Eragon." _

* * *

_I do not want to fool myself_.

Firnen glanced up at me with a skewed neck. His following snort hinted at amusement, though I hardly found the situation comedic.

I thought being here in the trees of my homeland… being far from the battlefields of woe and bloodshed… that I would be able to think clearer – to make the right choice. But I had been sitting here for many weeks, surrounding myself with amaryllis, roses, and lilies, and no such clarity came to me. Emptiness weighed on my heart more than I ever thought it could.

_Your conflict pains me,_ Firnen said, touching our foreheads together. _And I still do not understand the dilemma._

I sighed, cupping his muzzle and coaxing it away. Firnen knew his confusion only added to my torment, but the poor thing couldn't help it.

_'Poor thing'?_ Firnen growled. He crawled farther into my lap, making the branch I laid on wobble in a wide arch.

I steadied myself against the tree trunk, frowning at my beautiful green dragon. _If you agreed to this, this decision would be that much easier to make!_ I wasn't mad at him, though my tone bit the ends of words. But the frustration continued to simmer inside me, and not even my new companion could uncork this bottle.

Firnen breathed warm air on my neck and face. _What I fail to see is your reasoning, dear Arya. If your heart battles so strongly against becoming queen, why then consider it? You are like a dragon hatchling who is newly born and starving. You do not go for the fern leaves and the flower petals; you follow the instinct of your body and hunt for meat! Do not settle for what will leave you unsatisfied and hungry._

Exhaling through my nose, I indicated I wanted to get down, and Firnen took to the skies. I jumped down from the tree, landing in a squat to absorb the energy, and brushed off the sap and bark from my legs once I stood. Firnen settled a few feet away, spreading his wings like I would stretch my arms.

_I wish for you to be happy, Arya,_ Firnen said.

We started a slow-paced walk through the forest. _I am happy when I serve my people, Firnen. It gives me purpose. My mother as well would wish that I succeed her._

Firnen snorted at hearing the words of Elven Lords and Ladies sputter past my lips.

Ever since my arrival with Firnen, the Court of Houses let not a day pass that they did not remind me of my mother's supposed desires for me to take over the elven throne. They then also made sure to point out the tattoo forever imprinted on my shoulder, citing my commitment to duty.

_You have two duties now,_ Firnen reminded me.

Aye. I was a Dragon Rider. The glowing insignia gave final proof of it. And there held a significant weight to that new truth.

_Shirking one responsibility for a greater one is not the greatest of evils, Arya._

But which duty_ was_ the greater? How could I logically decide that? In listening with my heart, I knew I longed toward the riders. Never once had I wished for the crown or reigns of an entire race. Yet, was not the least appealing responsibility the one I should take? Did I enjoy the thought of focusing on the riders because it was easier than becoming queen?

Firnen growled again. _Truly? Do you put so little stock in the importance of the riders – in the importance of your friend Eragon?"_

I winced at the mention of his name. The cruel part of me hated that I cared for him more than I should. Another listened to Gwendolyn, though, and how she vented and raved about the emotionless qualities of the elves….

_"How dare you! How dare you stand there and insult my very essence – my very _being! _You elves believe your race superior to the humans due to your increased life spans, your increased knowledge, and lack of belief in the gods. I say _bah_ to the lot of you! You think our emotions make us weak and childish, but at least I've known love. We humans carry bounds of love and care that outlast even the most cleaver of your kind. I'd rather loose my heart a thousand times over than never feel a minute's worth of love."_

At the time, Gwendolyn's impassioned speech trudged up dark nightmares that haunted me days afterward. I realized a part of her words rang true. I _did_ think myself superior to humans. Not necessarily because of my race but because I viewed their torrent of emotions as a hindrance to their potential and made them nothing more than immature children. Eragon certainly seemed so, and his affections for me hadn't – at the time – made him any stronger or wiser. He was clumsy for it. Murtagh's anger did nothing but bind him further in his chains the same way Galbatorix's furry and pride became his own downfall. Brom, too, took a great many risks that, while I admired him for his zeal, I thought him irrational for it.

But I noticed Gwendolyn's change. At first silly and naïve, Gwen grew up through the risks she eventually took. And then I stood not too far away, a clear witness when she made the sacrifice of letting Caden leave should he chose. I sighed in remembrance of the way he returned the egg to me, explaining it hadn't hatched, and then turned to his beloved and gathered her into his arms.

Firnen made an irritated noise. _I've told you this before, Arya: I could have very well chosen that boy to be my rider. But his heart would never have been with the Riders. For those few days my egg stayed with him, his whole being yearned for the woman he loved and begged that I not bond with him. You, on the other hand, have the strength and the zeal to accomplish many things as a Rider. You are loyal and wise, and, in the end, I know I made the better choice hatching for you._

I stopped walking, feeling my knees give out from below me. I kneeled and pressed both my palms on either side of my head and pinched my eyes closed. Firnen wrapped his tail around my waist, waiting for me to speak.

My heart pounded in my chest harder than it ever had in battle. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, and I began to quiver. _Why do I feel this way?_

Firnen rested his head on my shoulder. _Until you believe yourself worthy enough for happiness, you will never accept true happiness._

But I shook my head. _Firnen, I cannot abandon the elves. It is only me that I trust in their re-growth! _What I wanted didn't matter in the big scheme of things. Gwendolyn was and still is a fool. Caden disgraced his name in rejecting a dragon. Eragon could never attach his heart to one woman.

Arya would forever serve.

**If the Italics didn't work, hopefully know that the last section there was finally into the 'present'. **

**Also, do you think Arya and Eragon would have gotten together by the end if CP hadn't drafted Arya so statically? Cause, if you think about it, she doesn't do much changing. And the changes we do see are either subtle or kinda random (i.e. Arya suddenly being okay with being queen and yet a Rider and yet having stated that she really just didn't want to be queen). These flash backs serve as a way for me to grow Arya into a distinct person. She missed some of that depth in the series (not blaming that wholy on CP). **


	33. Chapter 33

**Okay. Hope you like. If you don't... well then. I'm tired lol. I think I lost my edge on romance with all this writing in single shots. And I still have my NaNo to do. (By the way, I have of the rewrite of VoR up on my portfolio; there are some similarities to this fanfic's first chapter, but the core of it is definitely different). **

**Enjoy...**

Time passed without worry or thought of what it left behind. Fírnen grew rapidly, and I felt like a young mother the way I had to chase him about and play his games. He loved me a great deal but was endlessly frustrated with my decision to stay with the elves. And though the name was taboo, Fírnen wondered of the young man and his glittery dragoness often in the depths of the night when he believed me to be distracted in my waking dreams. Once, I caught the image of him and Saphira meeting, how he planned to impress her and go about mating her. The sequence at first brought a smile to my lips. I wanted that for him. Love. Companionship. But then Eragon and I wandered into Fírnen's dream, and we held hands. Such a picture thrust a grimace to my face. Eragon and I would never be.

"Arya Dröttningu?"

I blinked, jostled from my thoughts. Across from me, Lord Dathedr did well in hiding his perplexity as he waited for a response.

"I apologize," I said, inclining my head. "For my benefit, would you please repeat your inquiry?"

We sat in my seating a room about a low sitting table and in sung wood-chairs. Off to the side, a fire crackled in the fireplace, fighting off the winter chill. Lord Dathedr frowned in a rather stoic manner. His eyes watched me as if waiting for me to be frightened and flutter off.

Carefully, he began, "I only wondered – as a friend – at the nature of your person. Are you well, Arya?"

"Your concern is touching." My hands fidgeted in my lap. "But I am fine. I suppose I may be in a lull at the moment. For many years, my sole purpose and focus was that of the war and defeating the king. Now that he is dead…" I sighed. "It can be hard sometimes to understand what one's purpose is next in life."

Lord Dathedr nodded. "Wise logic, dröttningu. May I be too forward in assuming you believe succeeding your mother's throne to be your next action?"

_Tread carefully,_ Fírnen warned. He lingered outside, in a lazy mood. Today had been quite empty of responsibilities, but now his curiosity perked. An undertone of threat rung in his voice, and I knew it to be directed at the elf Lord.

Offering a polite smile, I explained, "Unfortunately, Lord Dathedr, I have yet to make my final choice in regards to the throne. Perhaps in the spring time?"

The frown on the lord's face became a slight more pronounced. He exhaled a long, tedious breath. "At the risk of being thought rude, I must protest as to why you continue to stall, dröttningu. Nearly six months have passed since the toppling of the Empire, and the elves need a Queen to usher them into a new golden era. Arya, _you_ are that queen."

"I am not," I said too hotly without first thinking.

_Quick is the heart to respond,_ Fírnen teased.

Lord Dathedr shifted in discomfort at my outburst. "Drottningu, are you well?"

I bit my lip, cursing myself for such emotion. "Once more, I apologize, Lord Dathedr. The cold air tempers with my manners. "

He gave the indication of forgiveness. "Arya drottningu, I knew from whence you were just a child that you have a dedication to the elves that is unique. None other is there like you."

"But I'm a Rider. Does that not make mute point our struggle to defeat a monarch who too was a Rider?" I questioned.

"The Elves trust you."

"I haven't decided yet, Lord Dathedr."

He stood. "You appear to be upset, dröttningu. I take my leave now so that you may rest."

Before he could leave, a thought struck my mind, and Fírnen urged me to speak it. "Lord Dathedr, have _you_ ever considered ascending the knotted throne?"

The lord was surprised. He said little beyond, "Our race has chosen you."

"I don't believe I am as qualified as you think me to be." Rising to my feet, I went to stand by the window where I could view Fírnen. His cool eyes regarded me gently, reaching with a mental embrace to soothe my growing aches.

When Lord Dathedr spoke, I imagined him smiling. "I do not think you see yourself as clearly as others do." He added no more, and I waited for the click of the door to bury my face into my hands.

_What is wrong with me?_ Was I not the fearless warrior – the dedicated ambassador of the elves? _I want to choose what is best for the people, but I can't do that when I feel so… _emotional!

Fírnen whimpered at my pain. _ Arya, please, do not rip yourself apart so._

_ I am at an impasse._ I pulled at my cheeks, refusing my heart's need to cry.

_ What do you _want_?_

Frowning, my head sunk into my arms. A sturdy, impenetrable wall stood in-between me and what I wanted. It was forbidden. Selfish was the act to focus on what the individual wanted and not on the needs of others. I made the pact to assist and serve. The day I made that decision, all my wants had been shoved aside and locked away in a shadowed pit in my mind. Only Fäolin ever managed to coax these wants from inside me.

_And Eragon,_ Fírnen spoke carefully.

My immediate response wrapped barbed wires around my chest and squeezed. Fírnen pouted and soothed my aches.

_I meant only that he made you remember that you are a person worth living a life,_ he clarified. When I did not respond, he added with hesitance, _Do you think, perhaps, you push yourself in taking the throne so that you don't have to speak with him again?_

_ Eragon is not of this matter._

_ But maybe he _is_ there within you – trapped behind that wall you bury in oblivion._ Fírnen came closer to my window. His wide, glittering eyes struck my very being. If tears were not wet and warm, I would have never noticed them spilling down my face. _I have not met him, but I have become aquatinted with him through your memories. He is dear to you – perhaps not as a lover but as the deepest of friends. _

_ Don't try and tell me I love him, Fírnen. _

My wonderful, beautiful dragon bristled at my anger. _Nay, Arya, I wish for you to leap into an endeavor you will not regret. I say that, with the Riders, you will have a friend by your side who cares of Arya the person, while a life on the Elvin throne surrounds you with councils and people whose only interest in you is as a political figure. _

_ True service requires sacrifice._ I remembered the wisdom of my father, and I'd wrestle with fate before I ever forgot it.

_ It is also an act which you perform willingly, Arya._

Tears gathered in my throat, and I coughed. I chocked out a sob as a feeling of great warmth and relief flooded over my heart. Fírnen hummed beside the window. Outside, lean tree trunks swayed and danced to the melody of the wind.

He was right.

Something burst within me. I coward in the corner of my mind, but Fírnen wrapped our inner selves together and brought me closer to the puncture. _Embrace the choice, Arya,_ he coaxed.

I realized in that short span of a second how much I had needed Fírnen in my life. How had I truly _lived_ without his guiding presence? Impossible. Without him, my life would have sunk to the depths of unreason.

_I _am_ so very wise, aren't I?_ Fírnen chuckled, a strange, throaty noise.

Without thought, a smile curved my lips. _It is decided, then, Fírnen. You and I shall join Eragon in the rebuilding of the Riders._

* * *

Gentle rays of the early sun warmed my skin as Fírnen cut through the clear skies. This must be how Eragon felt when he flew upon the back of Saphira. Free. Happy. Awed. The sweet scent of clean air filled my nostrils, sharpened my mind. The seasons here were milder than in the north, where winter had picked up.

_The sun, it smiles upon us,_ Fírnen said, pumping his wings harder. The easternmost point of the Ramr River lie forward and below by a wide stretch, but with each minute, we grew closer to our ultimate destination. I chuckled as a wave of Fírnen's thick anticipation washed over our bound. _I wish to see her_, Fírnen justified. _In your memories, this Saphira is a queen of the skies. She is the utmost standard of beauty. And do you not revel in the hope of seeing your Rider?_

_ He's not my Rider. We are close friends_.

Fírnen snorted but left it at that. He knew by now teasing me about Eragon did little to rouse new information or jeer a playful reaction out of me.

As we neared, Fírnen's sharp eyes spotted the glimmer of sapphire scales resting on the ground. He pushed forward, ignoring the strain it put on his wings. The blue dragoness seemed to sense our presence, and her figure moved. Then she projected into the air like an arrow and sped towards Fírnen.

When the dragons met in the air, they twisted over and around each other, spouting roars and growls of excitement. The fast wind grappled with my hair and wrapped it about my face. I sputtered mouthfuls of hair, shaking my head to try and clear my vision as Fírnen flipped up and over. I gasped and winced at the shock that stabbed my chest.

_Arya!_ The mental voice was tentative yet lively and pleased. Its warm tones smoothed over the sudden pain in my midsection.

Saphira circled at a tilted angle above Fírnen, her sharp eyes watching for any wrong movement. I reminded Fírnen not to climb higher than her, to show them we meant no harm. From the quick glimpses I caught, Eragon wore a large, elated grin.

We landed at the planned meeting spot, Fírnen's emotions already heating up and becoming frisky. He was loosing focus as he imagined interacting with the beautiful sapphire creature. But wariness and a tad of fear resided in the center of it all; Saphira was larger than he, and he felt puny and insignificant looking at her.

_Is that how Eragon views me?_ The thought came out of nowhere in my mind. Species aside, there seemed to be surface similarities to this situation. Was I not older than Eragon, beyond his years in knowledge and in strength? He reacted to me in a very human way, though I had to admit he was no longer as insolent and immature as he had once been. Eragon had changed.

I slid out of my saddle and landed with a simple grace. Eragon, too, slipped off of Saphira, and he did not pause in his landing before he began to jog toward me. I likewise sped my pace so that we met in the middle. At first, we slowed to a walk, each with a hand raised in greeting. Eragon appeared hesitant of his next move, surveying me and trying to read my mood. I laughed gently and followed through with the Elvin greeting customs.

With the formalities aside, Eragon said, "Arya, I am so glad to see you." Again, uncertainty creased his brow. His muscles twitched as if they wished to move, but he held them still.

"The feeling is mutual." I inclined my head.

Though only months gaped between the time spent apart, Eragon's physical appearance differed. His hair, due to the wind, swept across his forehead and tangled on top of his scalp. Sunlight had brightened a faint halo form in the soft brown locks. He grew an inch or so, and his face had lost the last of the miniscule, boyish details that had given him a youthful look. The clothes he wore were light for the weather, a simple fit that hugged the form of his chest and echoed the color of Saphira's scales. Brisinger was clipped to his hip.

Eragon gestured to the mass of emerald green that had moved closer to Saphira. "You… he hatched for you? You're a Rider?" He gazed at Fírnen, the emotion of awe and pride clear on his face.

I looked to my dragon as well. "Aye, he did."

"Tell me how it occurred." Eragon was pleased at the joy this new bond had given me. He reached forward, and I let him. His hand brushed my arm.

"On our return to Ellesmera, I noticed that Fírnen was beginning to stir with in his shell, but thought nothing of it, as Saphira had often done the same. Caden, too, remarked that where were times where it seemed that Fírnen might be hatching but never had. However, once we reached Du Weldenvarden and passed through its wards, he hatched. It was nearly evening, and I was carrying his egg in my lap, telling him of the world and reassuring him that he was safe, and then I felt the egg shake and…" Recalling the vivid memory generated a shiver that quaked my spine. Tears moved my eyes. "The bond is everything I imagined it would be. When we touched… I always wanted to be a Dragon Rider, Eragon, so that I could protect my people and avenge my father's death at the hands of Galbatorix and the Forsworn, but until I saw the first crack appear in Fírnen's egg, I never allowed myself to believe that it might actually come to pass."

"When you touched, did –"

"Yes." I lifted my left hand and brandished the silvery mark on the palm. It connected us now, Eragon and me. "It felt like…" Oh… how _did_ it feel like?

"Like ice-cold water that tingled and snapped?"

"Exactly like that." Without much thought to it, I grabbed Eragon's hand. His fingers tensed but then relaxed, his returning grip gentle and warm.

I pulled him toward Fírnen, suddenly needing these two to officially meet and exchange names. Eragon kept stride, Brisinger swinging at his side. Fírnen's head approached us. He eyed Eragon like a father would his daughter's suitor. I placed Eragon's hand on Fírnen's snout, saying, "Fírnen, meet Eragon. Eragon, this is Fírnen."

_I am glad to meet you, Eragon-friend-Shadeslayer,_ said Fírnen. _My Rider has told me much about you._

Awe encompassed the whole of Eragon's expression. "I am glad to meet you as well, Fírnen-finiarel. I never expected that I would live to see you hatched and free of Galbatorix's spells."

Fírnen snorted, the sound akin to a horse. Eragon lifted his hand, and the emerald dragon turned back to his female companion. The two immersed each other in a sea of thoughts, feelings, and expressions, each seeming to pick out those sensations that brought forth pride and confidence.

"They seem to have taken to each other." I smiled at the sight.

"That they have."

We walked out from under the dragons, a mutual understanding passing through the four of us. Fírnen's emotions heated. They made my fingers tremble and the back of my neck redden. He and Saphira stared at each other, crouched and tails raised like cats on the prowl.

It was a sight to behold. My heart burst to see Fírnen so completely enthralled, curious, and excited. It pleased me beyond words to see and be a part of the rebuilding of the Riders. This making of this choice let loose a sense of release that made it quite simple to smile and relax. No burden wore down my shoulders.

I looked to Eragon after a time, wondering at his thoughts. His feelings. "I apologize for not contacting you sooner. You must think badly of me for ignoring you and Saphira for so long and for keeping a secret such as Fírnen." It felt strange to say this, but then I reminded myself that Eragon was now my superior. He was the Lead Rider.

"Did you receive my letter?"

"I did." I reached into the front of my tunic and pulled out the battered square. For a time, I avoided reading this letter. Somehow, it made guilt burn in my chest. But after my decision to commit to the Riders, the letter became dear to me and therefore reread often. "I would have answered but Fírnen had already hatched and I did not want to lie to you, even by omission." He deserved better than that.

"Why keep him hidden?"

"With so many of Galbatorix's servants still on the loose, and so few dragons remaining, I did not want to risk anyone finding out about Fírnen until he was large enough to defend himself."

Eragon left it at that, understanding my reasoning. "Arya, you mentioned in your letter that the elves had chosen a new monarch. Who have they chosen?"

A wave of smugness emanated from Fírnen, which caused me to laugh quietly. "It was nearly I who became queen. The elves wished for it whole-heartedly."

Eragon seemed surprised, though he kept the expression under control. "But you are a Rider. Surely, they didn't want –"

"They insisted they trusted me," I interjected. "Elvin politics are gnarled, knotted, and almost impossible to follow. I was the choice for the throne most of them agreed upon. They came everyday to try and convince me that I was the smartest choice for the new monarch. Part of me still agrees."

Eragon frowned. "Why did you decide otherwise."

I sighed. "Fírnen reminded me that, while I could do great service to my people in becoming queen, it was not the decision where my heart resided. And I would only do my true service where I presented my whole effort and being to. I wish to be with the Riders."

The grin that broke across Eragon's face reassured my mind that I had made the right decision. "Arya, I am honored to have you and Fírnen as Riders. Our foundation of the organization will forever be strong for it."

I nodded. "That is partly why I came to meet you today. There is much work to do in Alagaësia, and you are the Lead Rider. We wish to be a part of the New Order and accomplish that of which you ask."

Strangely, Eragon suggested nothing. The top row of his teeth bit on his bottom lip.

"I also come baring the news that Dathedr has accepted the crown and is now ruler of the elves," I continued. "I am satisfied that he will be able to raise the elves above the past desolation."

A particular sensation from Fírnen twisted my gut. Eragon and I glanced over at our partners-of-hearts. The dragons' growling grew rampant and sporadic. They circled each other, eyes hard and set as opponents. Saphira lunged then and bit Fírnen on the left flank, drawing blood.

Eragon swung toward me, mouth opening with apology when I stopped him with a calm smile. To both Eragon and Fírnen, I explained, _If you want her to respect you, then you have to bite her in return._ I raised an eyebrow at Saphira's Rider, a silent question of approval. He responded with a wary, but understanding, smile.

Saphira made a snap at Fírnen again, and he hesitated, glancing back at me. _I'm not sure, Arya. I want to, but…. I feel inadequate. _

_ Let your instincts flow through your veins,_ I coached.

Fírnen's response was to roar and spread out his wings as a way to make himself appear larger. Then he leered at the dragoness and nipped her hind leg, sinking his brilliant teeth into her hide. Saphira shoved him off, and they began to circle each other again, their yelping and strange noises increasing in volume and octave.

_Perhaps, then, you two should allow your instincts to take over,_ Fírnen suggested to me before making another lung at Saphira. They wrestled on the ground, and he pinned his companion down, biting playfully at the base of her skull.

I pretended not to hear Fírnen's statement, though it flared a certain awareness in the center of my chest. It burned with passion and rage and caged away forbidden emotion.

"The courting of dragons is no gentle affair," said Eragon.

"Did you expect soft words and tender caresses?"

"I suppose not."

With a heave of her neck, Saphira threw Fírnen off and scrambled backward. She clawed and racked depressions into the soft ground, snarling at Fírnen, who then lifted his maw to the sky and let loose a rippling stream of emerald green flame.

Pride bloomed all over me watching this sight. "Oh!" I could not help the startled smile that curved on my face.

"What?"

"That's the first time he had breathed fire!"

Saphira, too, shot a jet of fire into the sky, and then she crouched and leaped vertically into the air like a fierce arrowhead. Fírnen followed an instant later. I gazed at the two dragons, and the awe I felt in witnessing the beginnings of an ancient ritual overshadowed the embarrassment that came with the burning of Fírnen's suddenly hot emotions. The dragons spiraled over and around each other, nipping and biting and shoving themselves farther into the distance. My connection with Fírnen grew weaker as they flew farther off, and soon the haze of dragon mating did little more to my conscious than brighten the color of my cheeks.

So consumed was I by the magnificent sight that I hardly heard Eragon's awkward sigh. He squatted and began to draw random patterns with a stalk of grass into the moist dirt.

What _would_ happen if I were ever to do as Fírnen said and 'follow my instincts'? My initial thoughts laid out before me pain and heartbreak. Eragon was human, and humans changed their hearts over the course of many years.

Or do they?

I paused in my thinking and repeated it. Did I really think so little of Eragon and his race? Had that not been the purpose Gwendolyn had tried to get me to see? Perhaps. But it did not comfort my doubts. Humans, after all, were emotional creatures. What attracted Eragon to me was my exotic appearance – simply for the fact that he had never seen a human woman look remotely similar to me. With that logic, Eragon could very well meet an elf woman within this century and decide she be more beautiful than me. And I refused to be treated like a child's toy – thrown out after having served my purpose.

Unsettled by these musings, I looked over to my dear friend. Eragon held in his hand a flat tablet, and my curiosity stirred. But then he raised the stone as if to hurl it to the ground.

The command, "Kausta," fell from my lips before I thought much on it. The tablet slipped from Eragon's fingers only to fall into mine.

The image presented was of me, and, at first, my heart shuddered to see it. _Not again_, it moaned. How often did I need to be reminded that men saw me like they did meat in the markets? And certainly Eragon already had done that to me once.

But no…. The woman presented on this fairth did not flare with the strange, mysterious beauty as that last had. The Arya imagined here was one of strength and utter loyalty. The green in her eyes was that of emerald stones – strong and pure. Her lips curved with a faint smile and demonstrated a touch of humanity. The black of her hair roped into a thick, full braid. Her forehead was bordered by a strap of worn leather. She stood in a closed stance, gazing into the open vista the viewer could only guess at. Behind her, the background consisted of clear sky, and I gathered the impression of clarity and wisdom.

But most impressive of all, for the picture as a whole gripped my chest and stung my eyes, was how the edges intertwined the light and a subtle darkness. The fairth wasn't overly bright or awe-inspired. The creator perceived hurt in the woman, and I realized the woman gazed with longing into the open sky, as if she wished she could grow wings and fly.

Take risks.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Eragon stand. He held out a hand for the fairth, but my hand would not reach out to give it to him.

Just this once, I heeded Fírnen's guidance and followed the urging of my heart. I turned to Eragon, making obvious eye contact. "Eragon, if you are willing, I would like to tell you my true name."

His mouth parted, struck dumb at such a request. He nodded, the corner of his lips twitching as he managed to say, "I would be honored to hear it."

I stepped forward and placed my lips beside his ear. Eragon tensed but then relaxed at my nearness. I spoke in a soft whisper, barely louder than the cool, river breeze. I spoke of a name that revealed secrets and pains and hurts that not even my mother could have guessed at. Only Fírnen knew. But I stumbled in the midst of the name and stopped. Something was missing. I felt nothing other than a pinch of tears behind my eyes.

Eragon leaned away when the silence stretched past a few tense minutes. He blinked and asked, "Arya, what is the matter?"

"I…" I swallowed, trying to grasp the correct truth. "I longer know… my true name."

Concern etched into Eragon's face. "Is it simply a lapse in memory or –"

I shook my head. "Eragon, my true name changed."

"Do you think maybe it is because Fírnen hatched for you?" Eragon suggested. He took hold of my shoulder in a gentle grip. "Becoming a Rider can alter so many parts of who you once were."

"I don't think so," I said, stepping away from him and crossing my arms. "When Fírnen began to learn how to communicate, we spoke often of my past, and my true name had changed then as well. He has helped me uncover so many things of myself I never understood before…." I looked out where the dragon's had disappeared.

Eragon shifted on his feet. "Would you then… hear mine?"

The offer surprised me. He trusted me still with his very essence even though I could not share mine. I nodded in agreement. "I will. And I promise to remember and protect it for so long as it remains."

He grinned and bent his head toward mine. Repeating my same action, he whispered his true name no louder than a breeze. Many parts of it I knew and admired. Eragon had grown into a strong, loyal man in the course of his trails when so many withered and died. And then his name spoke of love, of a binding passion to who he considered his best of friends – apart from Saphira – and to whom he'd forever stay true to. And though there still resided a spirit of youth and immaturity in his being, Eragon possessed a yearning and desire for learning and for fixing his mistakes.

Eragon leaned away, watching me for how I should judge his person. My mind felt stunned, running and tripping over the knowledge it had just received. It feared Eragon, while my heart embraced him.

I sighed after a time and looked at Eragon with truth on my lips. "You have a good name, Eragon. However, I do not think it is the name you had when you left Palancar Valley."

"No…."

"Nor do I think it is the name you bore during your time in Ellesmera. You've grown much since we first met."

"I've had to." Without seeming to notice, Eragon drew closer to my side.

_I leap into cold waters…._ "You are still young, but you are no longer a child."

"No. That I am not."

I could accept him, give him the chance he so desperately wished for to love me. I could shy back into the forest and avoid him for decades until his heart decided to find another. It seemed so inevitable that Eragon would love more than one woman. And yet, the idea of seeing him cast affection elsewhere saddened me.

Beside me, Eragon seemed to be going through an internal struggle of his own. He sucked in a quick breath and said, "Arya, what is to become of us?"

I resisted the urge to wince. I was not ready to make such a decision. Mind battled with heart. Logic with emotion. I _should_ reiterate what I had said so many moons ago. But I realized quickly that I did not want to. I clung to Eragon's friendship and care more so than what was wise.

Choosing my words with delicate care, I said, "I don't know… Once, as you know, I would have said, 'nothing', but…" _But I care for you now_. "Again, you are still young, and humans often change their minds. In ten years, or even five, you may no longer feel as you do now."

"My feelings won't change." The certainty in his voice could not be missed.

I tried to push away any sort of feeling as we held gazes. I searched for any sign of hesitance or lie, but there were none to be found. Eragon's eyes pleaded that I listen, that I not mock him the way I had before.

Making such a choice _now_ ringed foolhardy in the depths of my thoughts. He was too important for that…. I replied carefully, "If they don't, then… perhaps in time…" I placed an unsteady hand on the side of his jaw. "You cannot ask more of me now. I do not want to make a mistake with you, Eragon. You are too important for that, both to me and to the whole of Alagaësia."

Eragon bowed his head and leaned into my palm, letting out a long, shaky breath. He put his own hand over mine and nodded. "Arya, there is something I must explain to you." His brown, muddy irises lifted to mine. "Because you and Fírnen have decided to fully commit yourselves as Riders, it is only right that you know."

My hand slipped from his face, and Eragon began an extended tale of how he and Saphira needed to find a safe place for the eggs and the Eldunarí and that it was proving to be a difficult prospect. Then he revealed Nasuada's plan to form a group of magicians to keep watch over every human spellcaster. It took him several minutes to explain this predicament and concluded in saying, "So Saphira and I have decided that the only thing we can do is leave Alagaesia and raise the dragons elsewhere, far away from the other people. It's what's best for us, for the dragons, for the Riders, and all other races of Alagaseia."

Confused, I questioned, "But the Eldunarí–"

"The Eldunarí can't stay either. They would never be safe, not even in Ellesmera. As long as they remain in this land, there will be those who will try to steal them or use them to further their own designs. No, we need a place like Vroengard, a place where no once can find the dragons to hurt them and where the younglings and the wild dragons cannot hurt anyone themselves." Eragon attempted a lax smile, but it came out more as a grimace. He waited on pins and needles for my response, good or ill.

The news shocked me. I was not sure how to respond. _Leave_ my homeland? For the next half hour, I could do no more than wring information out of Eragon – how would candidates be chosen? How would dragons and their Riders know where to go? Did Eragon think of all that this entailed?

Eragon became flustered as my inquires grew. Finally, he grabbed my shoulders and said, "Arya! Please. A little faith in me? I would never make such a decision without thinking it through. You know I wouldn't be so hasty."

I struggled to handle my composure and took a deep breath. Nodding, I allowed him his right to make this decision. But I had to asked myself if _I_ could as well.

The touch of Eragon's fingers at my cheek calmed me, and I looked up at him. His voice gentled, soothing with care. "Simply the prospect of leaving our homeland for any length of time – maybe even forever – has sadden Saphira and me, but we have become accustomed to the idea, and we know it is the right path for us to take. I don't think you can know how much it would gladden Saphira and I if Fírnen and you would accompany us. Would you?"

"That is much to ask of us, Eragon."

"Aye." His eyes drooped.

I focused on the feel of Eragon's hand cupping my cheek. There resided nothing but complete trust and warmth within me. No urge to flinch. No reason to pull away. Choosing to leave at all was perhaps the simplest section of the equation. I dedicated myself to the Riders, and if the Riders needed me to sail out into the unknown and build elsewhere, then I would. But what of Eragon and I? No woman – elf or human – would have the chance to steal his affections then. And knowing Eragon, he would put most of his energy and spirit in providing my substantial comfort. Did that scare me?

When Eragon removed his hand from my face, I returned to the present. He tried to speak, but I reached out and pressed a finger to his lips. "Yes, Eragon. Should Fírnen agree as well, the two of us shall accompany you and Saphira withersoever you may go."

A wide grin split across Eragon's face, and he embraced me with much enthusiasm. The sigh that escaped his lips tumbled into a hearty chuckle that shook the both of us. Then, abruptly, he released me and stepped back to create space. His cheeks reddened, and he apologized for his rash behavior. "I was afraid you may wish to stay, Arya."

Strangely, an easy smile came to my lips as I said. "Do you not know me? Arya Shadeslayer is not afraid."

* * *

**Eragon**

I couldn't stop my fingers from fiddling with the chain clasp. The nerves ate at my courage like termites, and time passed on so slowly. Only the sounds of a small creek spilling over rocks and the occasional breeze through the trees touched my ears. No approaching footsteps.

_She'll come, little one._ Saphira's voice was faint due to distance, and her attention was split with Fírnen. But she comforted the worry that gnawed holes through me.

In many ways, the past few weeks were a blur. The four of us – Saphira, Fírnen, Arya, and I – had been preparing for our trip east and keeping watch of the eggs and Eldunarí. After accepting to come with us, Arya seemed to dive inward and became rather quiet and off-footed. But she never flinched or protested when I touched her hand, face, or hair. I kissed her once on the brow when parting ways for the night, and she said nothing of it.

I felt extremely human for this. Stumbling and tripping, I hoped not to be making a fool of myself with her. Arya was just too important to me. And now I fingered in the palms of my hands a gift of sorts for her – a human tradition. Would she accept or be offended?

_Perhaps you should wait until after we've set off,_ Saphira suggested.

I sent her an image of me shaking my head. _I won't be able to rest until I've done this. She seems intent on believing humans change their minds no matter their intentions. I have to prove my commitment to her. _

_ You've done well, little one, not to become angry or insulted_, said Saphira, referring to whenever Arya hinted that it was more likely than not that I would abandon her for another figure. Inwardly, these words frustrated and hurt me. But outwardly, I tried to the best of my abilities to show her otherwise.

My heightened senses picked up the shuffle in the woods. _She's arrived, Saphira!_ Sore nerves bobbed in my throat like apples, choking me.

_Good luck!_ And Saphira's connection faded to a small dot.

"Eragon?" Arya's curious voice flittered through the tree branches, and she appeared on the edge of the clearing.

I gripped the gift and held it behind my back, coming to a stand to greet her. "Arya, thank you for agreeing to meet with me."

"What is the issue at hand?" Arya wondered, glancing at the arm that fell out of her sight. "Your cousin and his wife are resting at the moment. I thought, perhaps when the sun draws near, we could visit the outer skirts of the city–"

"There was a matter I wished to discus with you," I said, stepping closer to the woman who held my heart. Arya wore nothing more than a pair of dark green leggings and a lighter colored tunic. Rather than a band of leather to hold away her hair, the inky black tresses were braided in a simple design and tumbled over the front of her shoulder.

Arya remained by the trees, watching as I proceeded nearer to her with blank eyes. "Go on, then."

I took a long breath, as if preparing to dive deep under water. The pale, crystal glow of the moonlight gave Arya a pallid, spectral flush. Fear attempted to overrule me. "I… Arya, you may not wish to hear this. But it is something I need to say…. I love you."

Arya's eyes widened, her brows shooting up to her hairline. "Eragon, I –"

But I stopped her with a raise of my hand. "Hear me out. Once, I said I would follow you to the ends of the earth, and now I _will_. Once, I said I would build a palace for you with nothing but my bare hands. Now I say I _will_, and its view will be of the vast seas and the dawn of the rebirth of the Riders. What must I do for you to believe in me, believe that I love you? Anything, I _will_ do and more… even if you should refuse me. Arya, you inspire me; I became the man I am today because I looked up to your example. Without you, I would not be half the Rider I am." As I spoke, Arya's expression shrunk into that of thorough thought.

Silence. Minutes ticked by, and my gut twisted and churned. Arya now held in her hands the whole of my heart. She could choose to crush it, leave me to pick up the shattered, miniscule pieces for the next five centuries. I would do it gladly, if it that was what she wished.

Arya frowned, and I instantly worried I had upset her. I swung my arm from behind my back and exposed my present to her. Again, surprise jumped to her eyes. I hurried to explain. "I made this for you. It's a preserved leaf from the tops of the trees here – to remind you of your homeland a-a-and whence you came."

The movement almost mechanical, Arya received the leaf pendant and chain. Her fingers felt the soft, earthy hide of the deep green, five-pointed leaf. It stretched no larger than her palm. "Eragon…." She spoke my name in a heated hush, pinching her eyes close as if to hold off tears.

I frowned. My gift had upset her. Inside my chest, a vital, beating organ began to crack and splinter.

"This is beautiful, Eragon," she managed to say. Her eyes opened, and she leaned against a tree trunk. "Grace be with you."

Something changed then. The tension in her face relaxed; her smile lifted. Arya reached up and placed a hand on my jaw. "I would like to share with you my true name."

I gasped softly. "I would be honored."

Being so near to Arya did painful, strange things to my innards. The scent of crushed pine needles tickled my nose as she positioned her lips beside my ear. She began to whisper, the words no louder than the creek's gentle gurgle. The name she spoke of held much the same of what she first tried to tell me. Loyalty and duty were wrapped like supports in its integrity. Fear still weeded about her strengths and dreams, threatening her with pain and loss. Arrogance colored the name as well, though it did not eat at her core. What caught me, however, was the small, new section of her name that I don' believe existed there before. It told of shyness and new challenges, a new cause to fight for.

Love.

Love for me.

When the telling of her true name ended, I felt the shudder that quaked her body, proving she spoke the truth. My arms grasped her, held her tight against me.

"Arya, _trust me_."

"I do," she murmured into my shoulder. She choked on more words, as if wanting to explain herself or reason things out. But she could only manage saying, "I do" again.

Leaning back, I took her face in my hands and pressed out foreheads together. Arya tensed at first, unused to such contact. I wanted to tell her I wouldn't kiss her without her consent. She needed to be comfortable first and foremost. But then she titled her chin up and grazed our lips together – light as feathers.

We pulled apart, staring like statues. Arya shifted closer still, her breath becoming audible and strained. Every particle of my being protested at the squint of worry and fear the pinched her eyebrows. My lips touched the spot where they connected.

I was curious, utterly perplexed as to why Arya would kiss me _now_ and never before. Feeling a thirsty need to keep hold of this moment, I wrapped my arms around her back and hugged her against my chest. "What changed?" I heard my voice speak.

Arya sighed and rested her head on my shoulder. "I grow tried of waiting for fate to tell me when the time is right."

"My heart will never change, Arya," I said as a desperate plead, kissing her temple. "I love you."

She nodded and turned her head so that our mouths could connect. Our kiss was chaste, a sort of promise. Her flesh was soft as petals, and they skimmed my lips with gentle contact. The moment was short, however, and I pulled away, hoping she understood that I had control over myself.

Our minds reached out and conjoined; Arya's caressed mine as if to prolong the moment without stuffing it.

Once before, I had looked upon this amazing being with lust and foolishness. But no longer. Arya and I were one in purpose and desire. My life was hers to give.

Holding her gaze and conveying my intentions, I inclined my head and kissed Arya again.

"Do not let the moment ruin itself," Arya warned when I drew back. But she made no move to extract herself from my embrace. She looked at me with an intense eye. "I trust you, Eragon. Please do not let me regret it."

I nodded. "And I give unto you my heart. I ask only that you take care of it."

She smiled. "You have my word." Arya grappled with my gift to her and clipped it around her neck. While she fondled the leaf, I fiddled with her braid, enjoying its soft, smooth feel.

_Only a few kisses?_ Saphira inquired. She chuckled across our connection.

_We are hardly dragons_, I mused. _Besides, I have a feeling her choice this night means more than I can comprehend at the moment. I'd rather rise Galbatorix from the grave and let his loose upon Alagaësia again than break her trust in me. _

_That is quiet noble of you, Eragon. I appreciate it,_ Arya said to me.

Embarrassment heated the tips of my ears and colored my cheeks. I'd forgotten Arya's mind still lingered with mine.

Arya laughed, touching the dark pink on my face. "You are not perfect, Eragon, but I am not asking you to be."

"I love you."

"So too, do I love you."

* * *

"Arya."

The cold night air staggered through her thick hair. She shrugged the locks to the side when she turned her head to me. Leaning forward with her forearms settled on the balcony rail, Arya appeared thoughtful and relaxed. Her nightdress billowed in the soft wind. Years – even this passage of centuries – had little effect on her.

"I thought you were asleep."

In a fluid motion, I pushed my arms around her waist and pressed my chest against her back. "I believed the same of you until I awoke alone in the middle of the night."

Arya returned her gaze to the dark sky. "I was remembering."

"Remembering good things, I hope."

She shrugged. "All of it, I suppose."

We fell silent as Arya returned to her musings. The palm of my hand spanned her midsection, not yet used to it again being flat and empty. Part of me wished a woman could remain pregnant forever, if only so that I could feel the child within kick and wiggle and squirm.

"If I may," I said after a stretch of quiet, "would you tell me what it is you thought of?"

"The war."

"Oh." I grimaced. "I _have _apologized repeatedly for when –"

Arya's foot stepped on mine. "And if you keep brining that up, you will still need to apologize."

Digging through her inky tresses, I kissed the nape of her neck in an attempt to calm her. "Peace, love. Did you mean, then, that you mused over you life decision?"

"I do not regret choosing the Riders and you, Eragon, though the elves wish otherwise," sighed Arya. "I simply remembered of when I accepted you and truly trusted you."

I made small noise of interest, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck. She ignored my advance, however.

I said, "Come to bed with me, Arya. We need our rest for the celebrations tomorrow."

Surprisingly, Arya snorted. "_You_ need your sleep."

"I wish to sleep with you."

"Am I your bed warmer?"

My arms tightened their hold about her slim waist. "Nay, you are my mate – strong, loyal, trustworthy, and the keeper of my heart."

Arya _hmphed_, but I could feel her relax into my embrace.

The faded memory from two centuries ago remained outside as we returned to our bedchamber. What impulse Arya to think so deeply on our first affairs I knew not, but, in the end, I knew it only mattered that we kept true to our promises so long ago.

Forever more. Forever after.

**And there you go... if that last section wasn't clear enough, there was a time jump of like 2 centuries. Totally did that on instinct. I officially hate trying to write endings. I'm terrible at it. **

**Regardless, I hope this makes up for me writing and Eragon fanfic and writing about OC's most of the time, lol. I wrote a whopping 14,515 for ya'll. :-) **


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